The Lost Warriors
by Firematt97
Summary: This story is a blending of Battlestar Galactica 2003 Series Characters and RPG Characters created be members of The CIC, and Mack's World. The Battlestar PACIFICA has returned from the dead.
1. Chapter 1

**Battlestar Galactica - The Lost Warriors Chapter 1**

Chapter 1.

 **Admiral Adama's Private Quarters**

Bill Adama and Saul Tigh sat in Adama's private quarters sipping rare Libran brandy; both men were off duty and were relaxing with conversation as the ship remained under the command of the very capable JOOD; Captain Aaron Kelly.

"Hell of a job on the new Raptor, eh Bill?" asked Tigh as he downed his brandy. Adama was leaning back in his chair as if in contemplative thought, hands together at the fingertips.

"Lensherr and the chief really came through; they adapted, improvised, and overcame almost every obstacle put before them in constructing a raptor from scratch. I can foresee big things for Matt Lensherr." Replied Adama.

"Doesn't he remind you of someone we both knew?" said Tigh.

"Who?"

"Culverhouse!" replied Saul helping himself to the bottle of brandy. He was referring to Rear Admiral Mack Culverhouse, the former commanding officer of the Battlestar Pacifica of Battlestar Group 66 that both men knew very well.

"Mack Culverhouse…" said Adama leaning back and closing his eyes remembering their old comrade.

The years came back to Bill Adama like a tidal wave. Mack Culverhouse was the type of Colonial officer in general, Battlestar commander in particular; that he thought most officers should emulate. One memory was quite vivid.

 **Battlestar Pacifica - Rear Admiral Mack Culverhouse commanding**

Battlestar group 66 was in the final leg of their long patrol, and Admiral Mack Culverhouse looked forward to returning to Gemenon for shore leave. He had been separated from Katie for too long. Mack Culverhouse was a rising star in the Colonial Military, he was the youngest officer ever to assume the rank of rear admiral, and he could hardly ask for a better assignment, Pacifica was a well decorated Battlestar, and usually within the top five choices for duty assignments. His executive officer Colonel T. Morlock would be taking a transport to his home colony of Canceria upon their arrival at the Gemenon air base.

"Colonel Morlock, have you had the opportunity to see to those details regarding Colonel Adama's send off?" asked Culverhouse discreetly. He was talking about the small gathering of senior officers that were planning to meet later that evening to give Colonel Bill Adama a sendoff party to celebrate his impending promotion to Commander, and subsequent transfer to his new command; the Battlestar Valkyrie.

"Affirmative sir, all victuals have been prepared and the officer's quarters have been secured. The room has been locked down for "maintenance purposes" until further notice, Husker shouldn't suspect a thing." Said Morlock. His attention to detail, and planning such events were legendary in his Battle group, and Culverhouse recognized that T. Morlock's career would be stellar.

"Where is our Caprican pretty boy now?" joked Culverhouse.

"You assigned him to inspect launch bay Alpha, he should have his hands full for the next few hours." The communications officer, who now stood at the command chair, interrupted the men, clipboard in hand.

"Admiral, we're receiving a distress call on a civilian channel that we normally monitor. The shipping freighter Pulsar en route to Ragnar Anchorage reports they are being attacked by pirates, possibly from Sagittaron."

"Damned Sagittarons," muttered an irritated Culverhouse. "How far off are we?" The Sagittaron people endured centuries of exploitation at the hands of the other Colonies, leading to the colony becoming one of the poorest planets. Piracy and terrorism was not unheard of, and most professional military personnel came to despise them and their tactics.

"We're at least an hour from their location." Replied the tactical officer, now turning towards Culverhouse.

"XO, launch Gamma squadron to intercept; I want that freighter protected, and confirmation as to who the aggressors are. I want to make sure that its pirates and not Cylons we're dealing with."

"Aye, aye sir." Within minutes, ten gleaming Mk. IV vipers and their assigned raptor from Gamma squadron hurtled through space to intercept the civilian freighter in distress. At the first soundings of action stations, Colonel Bill Adama raced for the CIC. In minutes, he was at Culverhouse's side at the plotting table.

"What do we have, Admiral?" asked Adama.

"Nothing major Bill, we're getting a distress call from civilian freighter claiming to be under attack by pirates from Sagittaron it would seem. Gamma squadron is on an intercept course."

The tactical officer looked perplexed; she was doing a long-range scan of Pulsar's last location. The Dradis positively identified the Pulsar, and surprisingly another ship with Colonial Military transponders. "Admiral, I'm picking up the pirate's transponder…war book positively identifies the ship as the Spawn."

"The Spawn?" repeated Culverhouse. "What the hell is an old Fighting star doing attacking another Colonial vessel?" The Fighting star was a small style warship that once numbered in the hundreds in the Colonial military, smaller than a Destroyer and moderately armed. They were phased out of active duty two decades before, most were scrapped, and some were sold to private owners over the objections of most senior military command staff. Those sold to non-military buyers were stripped of their offensive weaponry prior to taking possession. Apparently, this Fighting star was rearmed and now wreaking havoc on civilian ships.

"Communications…instruct Gamma leader that I want a complete sit rep as soon as he's on scene!" demanded Culverhouse. He deplored the thought of military vessels being sold to private ownerships whether obsolete or not. He thought they should have been scrapped entirely, but political interference trumped the concerns of the Admiralty.

Gamma squadron arrived on scene to find the Fighting star pulled up alongside an obviously damaged freighter that was listing to one side. Gamma leader opened an unsecured civilian frequency and broadcast a hostile challenge to the Spawn. The response was a blistering barrage of triple-A cannon fire that destroyed two unsuspecting vipers.

"Krypter, Krypter, Krypter…Fighting star has opened fire on us, Gamma two and six have been taken out." announced Gamma's squadron leader over the secured military frequency. The aging Fighting star catches the Colonial military unprepared, and the vipers return fire.

Culverhouse is outraged, the concerns he voiced along with other senior officers many years ago now came to fruition. A well-armed warship was now in the hands of pirates, and now two of his pilots and a civilian freighter were paying a price for it.

"Helm, bring us around on course 224.6, increase speed to flank. Launch remaining squadrons immediately." The Pacifica lurched forward as it traveled on an intercept course for their rogue Fighting star

The pirate in command of the Fighting star knew he was in trouble, while he knew his ship can hold off the vipers, a full Battlestar was an entirely different matter, and one very large one was bearing down on his location at flank speed. The Spawn pulled away from the freighter under full power and put some distance between the two ships. The vipers swarmed all over the ship attempting to take out the ships offensive batteries.

Bill Adama and Culverhouse were longtime friends, and Adama knew that Culverhouse had an intense hatred of pirates. They had gone too long without a serious challenge to their lawlessness. Culverhouse had long advocated using the military to hunt them down and safeguard the shipping lanes between colonies. The use of military intervention was always struck down, much to the thanks of political interference. Culverhouse had landed himself in hot water when he speculated loudly if certain politicians were financially benefiting from protecting the pirates from the wrath of the military.

The Pacifica was coming into effective firing range, and Culverhouse instructed his communications officer to signal the Spawn to 'stand down and prepare to be boarded.'

The response was not what anyone expected; the Fighting star opened fire on the crippled freighter with its main guns. The freighter exploded violently, 200 souls perished in a matter of seconds.

"Fraking savages." said Culverhouse through clenched teeth. Executive officer Morlock was quickly at his side. Everyone in the CIC was shocked at the destruction of the civilian ship.

"Should I target their engines, Admiral?" inquired the reserved Morlock.

"Negative XO…it's well past time to deal with these fraking lowlifes as they should have been treated a long time ago." Replied Culverhouse. "Weapons…ship to ship missile." Adama was quickly at his side, he leaned in close so that only the Admiral could hear him.

"Mack? What are you doing, aren't you going to take them into custody?"

"That ship has sailed, Bill. I warned them what would happen if they continued to sell off excess military surplus, they did not listen! Those lowlife, bottom-feeding politicians made sure that their bribe-paying supporters were kept happy."

"That's quite the indictment, Mack. Think about this."

"I've already considered it, Colonel. Let this be the signal to the pirates that their days are numbered." Culverhouse turned towards the weapons officer and nodded. Two ship-to-ship missiles streaked from the bow tubes and hurtled towards the Spawn. Vipers cleared the immediate vicinity around the fleeing Fighting star; the missiles struck their target with extreme prejudice. The ship exploded; to the mind of Admiral Mack Culverhouse, justice had been served.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2.

 **Battlestar Galactica – present day**

Lieutenant Tari "Ares" Adama reached for the handle and turned the water off; stepping from the narrow stall, she emerged from the showers feeling refreshed. Her lean body glistened in the harsh lighting of the pilot's latrine. While not bulky, she possessed excellent muscle tone. Prior to the encounter with the Eastern Alliance, she had worked out extensively with Major Nina "Betty" Nintius and was becoming quite proficient at hand-to-hand combat. Since her injuries, Nintius, on Doc Cottle's orders, had severely curtailed her own regiment, and Tari found herself working out with Starbuck. Tari found the two women very much alike, and respected both very much.

She pulled a comb through her hair and started to put on her uniform when Mark "Nightstalker" Sarnex walked in. She stood there in her uniform and bra, a lace one that Mark found very appealing to look at. She pulled on her tunic and buttoned up. "Something I can do for you, Nightstalker? Or were you just going to stand there staring?"

"Well if you don't mind I'd like to stand here staring, you've got a hell of a fraking body!" quipped Sarnex with his trademark felgercarb-eating grin. "However; I'm passing along a message…your presence is required in the old man's quarters post fraking haste."

"Since when are you my father's errand boy?"

"The Admiral called down to the pilot's lounge looking for you, I answered the line and volunteered to pass you the message."

"Why?"

"I knew you were in the showers!" he replied bluntly.

"Gods you're worse than Lancelot and Ghostrider put together. I should frak you just out of sympathy and get you out of my hair."

"That sounds good to me." Ares just sighed, gathered her things and exited the latrine. She would drop off her toiletries on her bunk and head to her father's quarters. She wondered what he could possibly want. The trip from the bottom half of Galactica where the pilot's quarters were to the upper section where Adama's quarters were located took roughly 25 minutes. The Marine guard at the hatch opened the door for her and Tari stepped in.

"Good morning Tari."

"Mother? What are you doing here, where's dad?" asked Tari.

"He's on his way; I thought the three of us having breakfast would be nice." Replied President Laura Roslin.

"Breakfast?" Tari was confused, something was not right here. Within minutes, Admiral Bill Adama walked in, followed by an ensign pushing a cart loaded with covered plates that contained breakfast. Tari was sure that whatever was under those covers most likely would not find itself in the mess hall for the crew.

Fraking hierarchy! She thought to herself. She was not surprised though, this was the President of the Colonies, and the Admiral, and it was doubtful they would be eating algae-based foods. A few months back they had come across a small planet with extremely harsh environment, but there was animal life there, and the Admiral ordered a "hunting party." The take was excellent, and the meats spread fairly throughout the fleet. While nobody would be eating 11 oz. steaks, they would however; have some protein to go along with noodles and other rationed foodstuffs.

"Well I see with rank comes its privileges." Said Tari sarcastically, she sat down at the table and reached for a coffee cup. Laura shot Adama a sideways glance who merely smiled.

"Your mother and I felt that it has been a long time since we've had a chance to have a family chat."

"Aren't we missing Mr. Personality?" She said referring to her half-brother Lee.

"Lee is otherwise engaged, this morning is just the three of us, Tari." Replied Adama.

"Tari, your father filled me in on your performance during the Cylon Outpost operation, from the sounds of it you were instrumental in its success."

"Well I am a great stick, Apollo should watch his ass, and I might edge him out for CAG one day." boasted Tari.

"Tari, your humility is breathtaking." Quipped Adama. "However, you were not invited here to discuss who the superior pilot is, though I'm sure Lee would have his own opinion on that subject."

"Oh, of that I'm sure!"

"Tari, as your father I am very proud of the woman you've turned out to be. As your commander I am especially proud of the officer and pilot you have become, and after reading Lee's after-action report on your performance at the outpost I have decided to promote you to full Lieutenant and present you with a distinction cluster." A 'distinction cluster' was awarded to members of the Colonial armed forces who performed above and beyond the call of duty while in combat. Tari was speechless. The promotion was well overdue as far as she was concerned, but what was that he said about Lee's after-action report.

Laura slid her chair over next to her daughter and planted a kiss on her cheek. "Tari I am so proud of you, as is your father. The promotion and award are well deserved." Said Laura. The President had been spending more time aboard Galactica of late Tari had noticed, she was not sure how she felt about that. Laura slid a small box across the table towards her daughter, Tari opened it and a shiny gold "Distinction Cluster" was within it.

"Lee actually had something positive to say about me?" asked Tari incredulously.

"Tari, Lee informs me that you are a brash pilot in danger of fast following in the footsteps of Starbuck, but he also states that you are an exceptional pilot with great potential. Maybe you might consider cutting him some slack; your brother isn't a bad guy once you get to know him." Said Adama.

"I know that dad, perhaps he would come across better if he removed that stick from his ass occasionally." Replied Tari. Laura choked on a piece of her breakfast at those words. "Sorry mother, I know Lee is a good man. I just don't know why he never cuts me any slack."

"Maybe he would if you stopped and gave him a chance. He has his hands full with Kara Thrace, he doesn't need another one." Tari knew to let the conversation drop here, Adama was her father, but he was also Lee's and that would obviously make him sensitive to any criticism of his only son. The breakfast would last another half hour, and she would have to return to her duties. Adama had asked her squadron leader to grant her an hour off from her morning duties, and now her time was almost up. Newly promoted to full lieutenant, Tari kissed both her parents' goodbye and left to start her day.

Upon arriving in hanger bay Alpha, Tari was surprised to find the entire Red Aces squadron present. They gave her a round of applause, Peacemaker and Apollo approached her, and Lee removed her Jr. Lieutenant rank from her collar. Jon "Peacemaker" Horlach pinned on her new rank. Lee came to full attention and saluted her. She returned the gesture.

"Congratulations Tari…this was well deserved. Said Lee smiling.

Battlestar Pacifica - Two days before the Cylon attack on the Colonies.

Admiral Culverhouse walked into the CIC and promptly met by his executive officer Colonel Morlock. The look on his face tipped off the Admiral that the news would not be good. "Out with-it XO…what have we got?"

"Tactical reports a glitch in the weapons system, he was running his weekly systems check when he found it. The component controlling the computerized targeting system for all primary guns institutes a weapons lockout when we instruct the computer to take target bearings."

"That's not good XO. Then again I never did like leaving a mass of wires and computer chips to take determine a firing solution so maybe this is a blessing in disguise." Replied Culverhouse sarcastically.

"You sound like Bill Adama with his aversion to networked systems." Said Morlock.

"Billy Adama sits at the helm of our oldest Battlestar, after the Valkyrie fiasco I'm surprised they even gave him the 'bucket.' Look, we need that system flaw fixed post fraking haste, what are we looking at for downtime, and will it require a shipyard?" Mack Culverhouse wanted to avoid sidelining a Battlestar from patrol and end up sitting on his ass in a shipyard with nothing to do but the paperwork." The nearest shipyard was the Scorpion fleet shipyards, which was six days away at top speed. An FTL jump was out of the question if there were a systems glitch, he would not take the chance that the deficiency was isolated to the weapons system.

"Colonel Morlock, I want the network taken down until Tactical isolates the source of the system flaw. I do not want whatever the hell is happening to start jumping to other systems such as life support or propulsion." Ordered the Admiral who turned and soon left to retire to his quarters, he was starting to get a headache; this day was off to a bad start. The executive officer immediately instructed Pacifica's central computerized network taken offline.

 **Battlestar Galactica – Present Day**

Margaret "Racetrack" Edmondson was finally cleared to resume her duties; Major Lee Adama sat at his desk and affixed his signature as CAG to the orders reinstating her to full flight status. "It's good to have you back with us, Racetrack." Said Lee replacing the cap on his pen.

"Good to be back, sir." Said a smiling Edmondson. Her ordeal at the hands of the Eastern Alliance those months ago was one of the worst most of the older officers aboard Galactica had ever seen in their long careers. To her credit though, she never revealed anything. She meets with a therapist weekly, and the nightmares and aversion to physical contact as lessened significantly. She had a long road ahead of her though. She signed off on the appropriate paperwork and headed down to the hanger bay housing the Raptor squadrons. Upon entering the hanger, she immediately walked over to Major Nina Nintius who was doing a preflight on Raptor 1.

"Hello Margaret, finally cleared for duty I've been so advised." Said Nintius, looking up from her clipboard.

"Yeah, I really need to get back in the saddle. How do you like your new Raptor?"

"Ah, if it was only my own personal Raptor," mused Nintius. "If it was, you could bet your ass I would have a much better fraking color scheme." Laughed Nina. The Raptor's DRADIS-absorbing composite fuselage was flat black. It was a true stealth craft. Nina leaned back towards her ECO, Lieutenant Hamish "Skulls" McCall. "Skully, would you mind switching off with racetrack? Take the morning off." Said Nina, more statement than question.

"No problem Betty, welcome back Racetrack." Replied McCall.

"Get your stuff together Margaret, we're skids up in one hour." Said Nintius resuming her preflight check.

Admiral Adama stood at the plotting table, coffee in hand. His luck seemed to have been holding, no major problems with the civilian ships, and morale amongst the population was in good spirits considering their lot. He made it a point to closely investigate every planet with life-sustaining atmosphere they encountered. The "hunt" on the last planet yielded an amazing amount of meat, and he chuckled to himself at the thought that there were a good chance people would not have eaten that meat had they saw the grotesque appearance of the animal that provided it. Noodles and algae-based foodstuffs were in copious amounts in the fleet, one of the civilian freighters was carrying a complete load of noodles and freeze-dried algae bars to one of the prison outposts on Aerilon when the Cylons attacked.

"Good morning Admiral!" came the voice of Captain Kara Thrace.

"Starbuck…what do you hear?"

"Nothing but the rain, sir." Replied Starbuck to their inside joke.

"What brings you to the CIC, Kara?" asked Adama taking off his glasses.

"I had some avionics questions for Dee, I'm out of my depth on a project I'm working on and could use some advice."

"Well she's not on duty for another hour, I'll tell her to get in contact with you." Their attention was diverted to the telltale audible warning of a DRADIS contact. Lt. Antonio Digit was the tactical officer on duty, and he immediately started a trace.

"Dradis contact…long range, 872 carom 980. Very faint Admiral."

"Set condition two throughout the fleet, signal the CAP and have them intercept and identify. Have the alert vipers standing by to launch." Ordered Adama, who was now turning to Starbuck. "I believe you'll be needed down in the flight pods, Captain." Starbuck briskly walked out of CIC and headed to the flight pod where Blue squadron was assigned.

The Combat Air Patrol assigned that morning was Roadkill and Wizard, after receiving their orders the both took an intercept course for the Dradis contact that was yet on their own less-powerful Dradis. Lieutenants Booster Antilles and Dave Wright were assigned to Red Aces squadron and were good friends. They drew this morning's CAP and now they were pushing their aging Mk. II Vipers to the unknown contact on full thrusters.

Raptor 1 was now materializing of their port side; Betty had jumped her Raptor to catch up with them.

"Wizard – Betty, I'm picking up your contact, unable to identify, I'm picking up heavy distortion and jamming that appears to cycle from frequency to frequency, I can't punch through it."

"Not the actions of someone with friendly intentions." Said Roadkill. The hair on the back of his neck started to bristle, not a good sign. Dave Wright always paid heed to the bristling; it was like an early warning system. "I'm not getting a good vibe here, people."

Racetrack was doing her best to sort through the electronic clutter that was being tossed their way; she was an excellent ECO whose nearest equal was Karl "Helo" Agathon. "Betty I'm making some headway, the contact is big, possibly a Basestar."

The screen lit up, smaller contacts emerged from the main contact. "Multiple contacts heading our way, I guess there can no doubt, they've got to be Cylons."

"Galactica, Raptor 1…multiple contacts from the original contact is heading our way at high speed, launch the alert fighters!"

Admiral Adama nodded towards the Tactical officer and Lt. Digit keyed his lip microphone. "Action stations…action stations set condition 1 throughout the fleet, inbound unidentified space craft." The alert vipers immediately launched, and the remaining three viper squadrons were being loaded into the tubes awaiting their pilots.

"Lieutenant Digit, order the fleet to jump to emergency coordinates." Said Adama now at his side. One by one, Galactica's viper compliment hurtled into space to intercept the incoming spacecraft bearing down on them. The CAP was two minutes from contact, and Raptor 1 prepared to deploy its new weapons system.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3.

 **Battlestar Pacifica – Day of the Cylon Attack on the Colonies.**

The buzzer sounded, putting an end to a wonderful dream. Mack sat up in his bunk trying to grab wisps of the dream that was slipping from his memory like water through his fingers. He was back on Gemenon, and he and Katie were riding through the countryside on two magnificent horses. He missed her greatly; it had been eight months since he kissed her goodbye to start his yearlong patrol at the farthest edge of the Colonies. The dream felt so real, and he was saddened as even the faintest memories of it was now gone.

He ran a straight edge razor over his face, taking care not to nick himself. Donning his duty uniform, he adjusted his collar insignia and stepped out of his quarters. Culverhouse took a short walk to the officer's mess hall to fill his mug with hot coffee, and perhaps some breakfast before he reported to the CIC to relieve Morlock. He came in right behind his CAG; Major Tamara Hawks; call sign Widow Maker.

"Good morning major!" greeted Culverhouse. The woman before him was just as tall as the Admiral; she was not an overly attractive woman, but far from ugly. Long jet-black hair with green eyes, and prominent cheekbones. Hawks graduated number one in her class at flight school and was every bit the professional. She was a very demanding officer, but fair. Her pilots liked her, but all knew that none would escape her wrath should a cluster frak-up occur. Mistakes were usually a one-time occurrence under Widow Maker. Culverhouse liked her very much and respected how she ran her air wing.

"Good morning sir!" replied Hawks crisply. Her uniform was immaculate, always cleaned, and always pressed, her long black hair tied tight into a ponytail. Her tray contained black coffee, juice and what passed for fresh fruit aboard a Battlestar. She was very physically fit and did not drink or smoke. She viewed her body and mind as a temple and treated them accordingly.

"What does Pacifica's CAG have on her agenda this morning?" asked Culverhouse as he poured himself a large mug of coffee. He took an extra-large portion of Bacon, which elicited a raised eyebrow from Hawks.

"Gamma and Omega squadrons have an exercise scheduled for 1030 hours," she began, "Beta squadron has the day off, and Alpha is the assigned alert viper squadron for today." Hawks drilled her pilots continuously; she demanded 100 % from every one of her pilots. While a stern CAG, she also believed in rewarding the men and women under her command when they performed well. Beta squadron scored highest on a combat drill against viper squadrons from the Battlestar Atlantia a week earlier, she was very pleased and decided to give the pilots of Beta a full day off.

"Excellent major, I expect our squadrons to take first place in the combat challenge on Caprica next month. It's about time someone knocked those self-absorbed Caprican pretty boys off their damned perch, am I right?" Hawks was Tauron by birth, and like most non-Capricans, had a slight dislike for Capricans, many who felt like they were the superior colony due to being the cultural and governmental hub of the twelve colonies of Kobol.

"I think we can produce a good old fashioned Caprican ass kicking, sir." Said Hawks quietly. Culverhouse smiled and grunted, he took his breakfast to go and headed for the CIC.

The Marine guard outside the CIC came to attention as the Admiral approached. Culverhouse nodded to him and entered. The helmsman was first to spot him. "Admiral on deck!" he shouted.

"As you were people!" instructed Culverhouse walking up to the main plotting table. Colonel Morlock was there sipping his mug of fresh Cancerian roast coffee provided by an ensign. Morlock slid a clipboard containing the night shift log across the table to Mack.

"Good morning Admiral!"

"Good morning Colonel…what is the status on the network?"

"Still down sir, but progress is being made, we're a full day out of Scorpion Fleet ship yard. The analysts feel confident that they can replace the components that are affecting the targeting computers once we reach the shipyard, they estimate a total of sixteen twenty-four hours offline."

"Colonel you tell those pencil-pushing twerps that I want that estimate cut in half, if they can't make it happen perhaps their services could be better appreciated aboard that antiquated wreck of a Battlestar that is soon going to be serving as a fraking school for God's sake." Said Culverhouse.

1030 hours: Attack exercise for Gamma and Omega squadrons; Battlestar Pacifica

"Omega 1 – Omega Leader, my dradis has you and Omega 6 positioned at 066 carom 214…30 minutes out."

"Omega Leader – Omega 1 that would be correct, we're holding position ready to ambush Gamma team."

"Roger that Omega 1, don't venture off too far from those coordinates unless you're planning to visit Scorpion shipyards." Omega squadron was tasked with attacking Gamma squadron, which was playing the part of patrol. The plan was for Omega 1 and 6 to attack the squadron and retreat, causing the patrol to pursue them straight into a trap set by the remainder of Omega squadron.

The dradis chirped contacts. "Omega 1 – Omega 6 I'm picking up contacts in sector two, these fraking guys are coming in from the entirely wrong vector."

"Normally I would just say 'frak it' and improvise, but these guys are now between us and the spot we're supposed to be ambushing them. Oh well…let's go get em!" replied Omega's squadron leader. The two Mk. VII vipers peeled off and took an intercept course on full speed towards their targets.

"Omega 1 I'm not picking up Colonial transponders." Said Omega 6 somewhat confused. Omega 1 peered at his console, the absence of Colonial transponders was not the only abnormality; there was sixteen contacts, not ten. Omega 6 was drifting further ahead, roughly 1 minute ahead of Omega 1. The pilot ran identification on the contacts they were now paralleling. War book was unable to identify the contacts from its extensive database of Colonial and Cylon spacecraft.

"War book coming up empty, skipper. I'm going to try and get some mark one eyeballs on the situation." Informed Omega 6 as he increased speed to close the distance. The closer he got, the more he felt uneasy. Something was very wrong.

Omega 1 had increased his speed to catch up with his impatient wing-mate. He was now 30 seconds away when Omega 6 called out. "Omega 1 I've got a visual…looks like a giant flying wing, 7 to 8 meters I'd have to guess from this distance."

"Flying wing?" repeated Omega 1, "Cylons?" Those pilots old enough to remember fighting them often described Cylon raiders as a flying wing. "Omega 6 – Omega 1 pull back immediately." Too late, one of the trailing raiders had spotted the Colonial Viper and gave chase.

"Omega 1 – Omega 6, I've been spotted and am being pursued." Two of the flying wings opened fire on the fleeing viper. "Oh frak, they're firing on me…request permission to go weapons free."

"Omega 6 you are cleared to return fire, I'm almost at your location." Omega 6 flipped end over end and armed his weapons. The attacking craft was almost upon him, as he was ready to return fire he noticed a portal sliding open on the incoming craft. A red light flashed side to side.

"What the frak? These things are Cylons skipper they're emitting some sort of red…" the receiver on Omega 1's comline went dead. Omega 6 was still on his dradis but had slowed considerably and was being overtaken by the Cylon craft. He was now in visual range when he saw the Cylons open fire on Omega 6. The explosion was blinding. Omega 1 reacted immediately by flipping end over end and kicking in his battle thrusters.

"Neptune – Omega 1 with an emergency transmission." Called out the pilot over a secure frequency. Neptune was the code name for the Pacifica.

 **Battlestar Pacifica – zero hour.**

"Colonel Morlock, we're receiving an emergency transmission from Omega 1." Reported the communications officer.

"Put it on the loud speaker, lieutenant." Ordered Morlock.

"…Neptune – Omega 1…der attack! Cylon …ghters." The transmission was full of static, but the words attack and Cylons were unmistakable.

"Lieutenant, can you clean that up? Have Omega 1 repeat his last!" The loud speaker continued to crackle.

"…reported that a red light…than apparent…ower failure….ticed Omega 6 overtaken…destroyed!" All eyes had now turned towards Morlock who instructed a nearby officer to get Culverhouse up to the CIC.

"Launch the alert vipers immediately, contact Gamma squadron and alert them to the situation." Ordered the executive officer.

Omega 1 was now under full battle thrusters streaking across the stars, attempting to put as much distance between him and the Cylons as possible. He was already picking up Gamma squadron at the outer limits of his dradis and closing the gap. Unfortunately, the Cylons were gaining.

The lead raider opened its "eye," the red glow flashed side to side and systems started to shut down on the fleeing viper. Omega 1 was further ahead than Omega 6 when the Cylons disabled his viper. His engines and weapons systems shut down, and environmental controls and communications were on the fritz. His viper started to spin out of control. "His fingers raced across the keypad on his left side, out of the corner of his eye he saw the raiders, then the barrage of missiles heading his way. He hit the 'send' key and closed his eyes. Cylon missiles cut short his training exercise…and his life.

Culverhouse was now storming into the CIC. "Sit rep!" he barked as he made his way to the plotting table.

"The two Omega vipers tasked with ambushing Gamma squadron have fallen under attack themselves, allegedly by Cylon fighters. Omega 6 is reported destroyed by Omega 1, but we cannot confirm at this time."

"Admiral…flash transmission from Picon fleet headquarters…broadcast in the clear."

"In the clear?" repeated Culverhouse dumbfounded. Military transmissions were never broadcast in the clear; all transmissions were scrambled and on secure frequencies. "Read it!"

"Cylon attack under way…this is not a drill!" The news shocked everyone senseless; the Cylons had disappeared close to forty years earlier. "Sir, we're now getting multiple distress signals from Scorpion Fleet shipyards, I'm getting reports of nuclear detonations, power failures, and large numbers of Cylon attack craft."

"Tactical, set condition one throughout the ship. Helm, flank speed for Scorpion shipyards." Ordered Culverhouse, now assuming command of Pacifica. The Atlantia class Battlestar sprung to life as her main engines increased their output.

"Sir, incoming text message from Omega 1."

"Read it." Barked Culverhouse.

"Cylon fighters attacking….they emit optical scan that disrupts/disables systems…Omega 6 KIA …do not engage with vipers…my systems now down…Beware-"

"Is that it?"

"Affirmative sir, all transmissions with Omega 1 has now ended."

Morlock leaned in close to Culverhouse and spoke. "If Omega 1's report is accurate than Gamma squadron is walking right to their deaths. Somehow the Cylons are shutting down their systems remotely." Warned Culverhouse's ever-faithful XO.

"Communications…instruct Gamma squadron to break off and return to the ship immediately. Do not engage incoming Cylon forces!" It was too late; Gamma squadron was now within striking distance of the Cylon raiders. Like Omega 1 and 6 before them, their systems shorted out. It would not be known until much later the cause. Ten Mk. VII vipers careened out of control, the cream of Colonial strike fighters now dead hulks of metal, their pilots trapped within. Cylon raiders picked them off mercilessly.

One by one, the transponder identifiers that represented Gamma squadron disappeared from the dradis screen aboard Pacifica. Mack Culverhouse gritted his teeth and slammed his fist down hard on the plotting table. He turned to Morlock. "I want those damned birds aboard immediately, everyone Colonel." Pacifica recalled her alert vipers and the remainder of Omega squadron that were waiting at the ambush spot for their two comrades to lure the unsuspecting Gammas into the mock trap. Long-range batteries lit up the skies behind the retreating vipers to slow down their Cylon pursuers while the vipers made combat landings.

 **Scorpion Fleet Shipyards.**

Nuclear detonations erupted throughout the shipyard, explosions rippled across the orbiting Colonial repair station as Cylon raiders and heavy raiders rained death and destruction down on the unsuspecting Colonial military. At least four Battlestars are docked during the attack, only one escaped in a daring, blind jump.

 **Battlestar Pacifica – One hour into the Cylon surprise attack.**

"Admiral, long range scans indicate multiple nuclear detonations above Scorpia, all communications with the shipyards have failed." Reported Morlock.

The tactical officer spun in his chair. "Admiral, at least nine raiders have broken through the outer perimeter."

"We can't let them use those disabling systems, Admiral." Warned Morlock. "It is unknown if they can affect a Battlestar, or just smaller attack craft."

"Weapons, full defensive barrage, I want the flak so thick that a daggit couldn't squeeze their way in. Helm, bring us about on course 1-1-0, flank speed and spin up the FTL's."

"Admiral, the systems failure in the ship's network…a jump could be calamitous." warned Morlock.

"So, can one of those slit-eyed Cylons if they get in close enough to disable Pacifica's defenses. I'll take my chances." Replied Culverhouse. Retreating from battle was something that no military officer relished, but Mack Culverhouse needed some breathing room to reevaluate the situation in hand. Scorpion Fleet shipyards was now a nuclear wasteland, and long-range scanners were now picking up the unmistakable presence of the Cylon capital ships known as Basestars.

"Dradis contact off the port side…huge warship, and its launching fighters, at least 200 and counting." A vertical pylon connected the two Y-shaped hulls, a massive array of ship-to-ship missiles were now inbound. "Incoming ordinance!"

"Helm…jump us out of here now!"

"Admiral we're still configuring jump coordinates…"

"JUMP THIS SHIP RIGHT FRAKING NOW!" boomed Culverhouse. Pacifica disappeared in a blinding flash.

 **Battlestar Galactica – present day.**

"All squadrons have launched and are on an intercept course for Cylon raiders." Reported Tigh.

"Fleet status?" inquired Adama. Tigh glanced at Digit who was keeping track of the civilian ships that were jumping away.

"Ten ships left, Admiral. Reported Digit. "Cylon Basestar now within our outermost security envelope sir and closing fast; our fighters should be in contact any moment."

Raptor 1 had now fully deployed its offensive array of weapons and was doing its best to keep up with Wizard and Roadkill. Alert vipers were four minutes out, and the remaining squadrons six minutes out. The three of them were going to have their hands full.

"Holy frak, I've got at least 50 raiders inbound." Said Roadkill over the comline.

"Where are the rest of them? A Basestar's raider compliment is much more than that." Said Nina.

"Wait…something's wrong here. Incoming attack craft is broadcasting Colonial transponders." Shouted racetrack.

"Roadkill – Betty, weapons hold…we're picking up Colonial transponders." Roadkill switched settings on his dradis and verified Racetrack's discovery." Raptor 1's dradis was correct; the incoming Cylon raiders were in fact broadcasting Colonial transponders.

"Are you fraking kidding me, this is like Pegasus part two." Joked Wizard referring to a similar encounter with the Battlestar Pegasus over a year earlier, long thought lost to Cylon treachery.

"Pipe down Wizard, I'm breaking radio silence, switching to Colonial frequency one." Lt. Dave Wright switched on one of several scrambled frequencies formerly used between Colonial military warships when the Colonial military existed.

"Attention incoming spacecraft, this is Colonial viper 2471 of the Battlestar Galactica…you are ordered to identify yourself immediately or you will be fired upon." It was not long before the hostile challenge was responded to.

"Attention Colonial vipers, this is Major Tamara Hawks of the Battlestar Pacifica, you are instructed to stand down until we can verify your identification." Ordered Pacifica's CAG.

"Widow Maker, Pacifica…you have inbound to your location, at least forty. We are identifying them as Colonial attack craft, can you verify?"

"Widow Maker to Pacifica, inform Actual that we have been issued hostile challenge by vipers claiming to be from Galactica…over."

Aboard Pacifica, Culverhouse and Morlock exchanged surprised glances. "Galactica? Billy Adama?" said Culverhouse. "Communications, instruct Widow Maker to go to weapons hold until we figure this out."

"Admiral, we're picking up a Colonial Battlestar on dradis, I've identified it as the Galactica." Reported Tactical.

"Verify that identification, Lieutenant!" ordered Morlock now at her side. The tactical officer ran two additional checks and looked up at her XO. The contact was positively identified as the Battlestar Galactica.

Lee Adama was listening to the back and forth between Roadkill and Widow Maker; he recognized the name of Pacifica's CAG, but had never met her. She was regular Colonial military prior to the Cylon attack, where he was in the Reserves.

"Roadkill – Apollo…I'm assuming command, standby until we sort this out." Lee's mind was swimming, he had been in Roadkill's exact place when Pegasus had returned from the dead and he was closing in on what he thought was a Cylon Basestar. "Widow Maker this is Apollo, Galactica's CAG. I've been ordered by Galactica Actual to stand down and hold position until he arrives."

"Apollo – Widow Maker…message received, I have received similar instructions and have ordered my strike team to stand down as well."

Two Battlestars faced each other for the first time, in their prime they each were assigned to separate Battlestar groups, one ship a battle-scarred boxy hulk well past its prime, the other more streamlined and modern.

Bill Adama lifted the handset when Dee informed him that Pacifica Actual was on the line. "Mack?" his voice was low; he stared deeply at the attached cord.

"Billy Adama you old war daggit, how the hell did you and that antiquated rust bucket survive the Cylon attack? Are there others?"

"Mack, I'd like you to join me aboard Galactica as my guest. We can catch up on everything that has happened then. I've already informed the President of the situation, and she will be joining us once we've jumped to the fleet's secure location."

"President, fleet? President Adar survived the attack, how many warships do you have under you command, Bill?"

"Laura Roslin is president, Mack…and the fleet is civilian craft housing what is left of humanity. Let's leave this until we can meet in person."

"You'll understand if I arrive with two Raptors of armed marines under viper escort, Commander?" said Culverhouse.

"Of course, and I believe the correct honorific would be 'Admiral." Replied Adama with a smile he knew could not be seen but would be understood by his old friend.

"Admiral Adama?" laughed Culverhouse. "Alright Admiral, I will be aboard at 1400 hours, I will expect a fine wine and long explanation on what the hell you've been doing for the last few years."

"It's a long story, Mack. See you at 1400 hours aboard Galactica."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4.

The two Battlestars had arrived at the emergency jump coordinates where the civilian fleet was holding position. Three Raptors under the protection of two full squadrons of near mint-condition Mk VII vipers were now on final approach at the starboard-landing bay. The three raptors touched down and their viper escort continued through the length of the bay exiting the front. The three raptors were lowered into the hanger where they would be met by two dozen armed Colonial Marines from Galactica, and a small contingent of senior officers; a far cry from the reception given to Admiral Cain.

The hatches on Raptor 2 and 3 opened and heavily armed Marines exited to take up positions in front of Raptor 1 that contained Culverhouse. That hatch lowered, and out stepped Rear Admiral Mack Culverhouse in dress grays, his CAG in her dress uniform at his side. Culverhouse stepped off the wing and proceeded to the center of the bay directly in front of Adama, who was flanked by Saul Tigh and President Roslin. The two Battlestar commanders came to attention and saluted.

"Permission to come aboard, Admiral!" requested Culverhouse.

"Permission granted, Admiral!" replied Adama smiling.

"Are you convinced this isn't a raptor filled with bucket heads now?" joked Culverhouse.

Adama did not reply but motioned towards Laura. "May I introduce the President of the Colonies…Laura Roslin." Culverhouse extended his hand, which she took firmly.

"Madam President, I'm honored to meet you, I am sure yours is quite the story to tell."

"As should yours, Admiral. I too am honored to meet you." Replied Laura.

Culverhouse glanced at Colonel Tigh, looking him over from head to toe. "Saul Tigh...the gods saw fit to grace us with your dour presence, didn't they?" laughed Culverhouse extending his hand. "That eye patch comes with a story I suppose?"

"And then some, Admiral. Welcome aboard!" replied Tigh. He turned towards the Marine sergeant and dismissed him and his detail that promptly shouldered their weapons and departed.

"Mack I'm sure you remember my son Lee, he's Galactica's CAG.

"Of course, I do, Bill. It's been years Major, but I could never forget your face." He turned towards Major Hawks. "This is my own CAG, Major Tamara Hawks." She nodded towards the gathered officers and fell back a few paces behind Culverhouse when they started to walk towards the bay exit. Pacifica's Marines were also dismissed, and Lieutenants Kara Fan and Mark Sarnex were ordered to escort them to the Marine lounge where they could interact with their fellow Marines from Galactica.

Within a half hour Adama, Culverhouse, Tigh and the President were sitting in Adama's private quarters. A table was set with fine linens and china. Two large bottles of Caprican red wine sat at each end. White gloved ensigns poured the wine into silver and glass long stemmed wine glasses then exited the room.

"I'll start off by asking the obvious, Mack. How the hell did you survive the attack, and where have you been since then?" asked Adama.

"We were enroute to Scorpion fleet shipyard to have maintenance done on our network due to a serious problem we encountered with the targeting systems. I had Morlock take the network offline and we were less than a day out when viper I had out on a training mission were attacked, then the shipyard. I lost 12 vipers under very suspicious circumstances, and when we determined that the Cylons found a way to disable our networked systems I ordered a withdrawal, there was no way to know if a raider could inflict the same sabotage on a Battlestar that they did on the vipers."

"They could! You have no idea how smart that call was." Said Tigh picking up his wine glass.

Adama recounted how the Cylons were able to infiltrate the Command Navigation Program designed by former President Dr. Baltar who was now among the missing after the second exodus from New Caprica. Culverhouse was flabbergasted by the story of the crushing defeat of the mighty Colonial fleet at the hands of the Cylons. He was further shocked at the revelation of the Cylons now looking completely human.

"Twelve models of humanoid Cylons? My mind can't wrap itself around that, it's a fraking nightmare!" He quickly composed himself and apologized to Laura for the language. She just smiled and nodded her head.

"Admiral, you'll have to forgive me, I've been down this path before with the Pegasus and Admiral Cain. Without going too far in depth now, all I can say is that it did not work out very well. I have many of my own questions, and chief among them is your intentions."

"My intentions, Madam President?" said Mack looking confused. Adama shot Roslin a sharp look, which she clearly ignored.

"I won't mince words Admiral. Upon reuniting with the Pegasus, Admiral Cain assumed command of the fleet, and the results were…disastrous." Culverhouse grasped the meaning of her concerns immediately, he turned towards Adama.

"Bill, let me assure you…I have no intention of relieving you of command. I outrank you, but you have been the glue that has kept this fleet and the last remnants of our civilization together since the attacks. Only an egotistical lunatic would jump into the unknown complexities of your unique situation and try to take over. There is so much I have to catch up on, and I want to pledge my support and that of the Pacifica and her crew to you and the President." Said Culverhouse earnestly.

"I appreciate that Admiral, let me assure you that my staff and I will bring you and your command staff up to speed on our current situation, and current course of action which is to locate the home of the 13th tribe and resettle." Said Adama.

"13th tribe…the lost tribe of Kobol?" asked a stunned Culverhouse. "My gods you people have a job ahead of you bringing us up to speed." Laughed Culverhouse. "Now…let me tell you my story." From there, Culverhouse retold the story of life on the run for Pacifica after the attacks.

 **Pilot's lounge.**

Lee Adama sat with Kara Thrace, Dylan Wolfe, Becky Zathras and Major Hawks at a table in the corner. Tamara has loosened the collar on her tunic and was drinking a beer. Unlike the Galactica, Pacifica had no support ships, no access to food and drink stores that were in copious amounts aboard the Luxury Liner Cloud Nine before its destruction. The only alcoholic beverages aboard her Battlestar were produced in an approved distillery. This was a luxury long denied. She was not flying, so she would limit herself to one.

"Major Adama," she began. Lee cut her off and told her to feel free to call him by his call sign. "Alright…Apollo, I couldn't help but notice the presence of Mk II vipers out when we first encountered you, and in the hanger bay. I realize that Galactica is an old Battlestar, but I know for a fact she had a full complement of Mk VII's." Kara Thrace set her ceramic 'Top Gun' mug down hard on the table and spoke up.

"The Cylons took out our entire wing in the opening attack! The poor bastards never had a chance to defend themselves." Hawks felt Starbuck's pain clear across the table; she knew what it was like to lose pilots. "With the Admiralty's infinite wisdom to turn a warship into a floating school and museum we had two full squadrons of antique vipers long since put out to pasture, to dress up their museum. Those antiques were not networked; hence, they were not susceptible to the Cylon virus. If not for them I doubt we'd even be sitting here today having this conversation."

"But I have seen Mk VII's."

"Courtesy of the Pegasus; when Apollo decided to run the Beast on a suicide mission to rescue our asses on New Caprica he left his entire air wing to protect the civilian ships. However, before that, their own board production facility cranked out two complete squadrons of Mk. VII's. The Mk. II's we have left are held together with spit and wire." Chimed in Captain Wolfe, call sign Ghostrider.

Vixon spoke up next, "How many vipers do you guys have left?"

Widow Maker lowered her eyes to the floor. "We lost the entire compliment of Gamma squadron and two from Omega squadron at Scorpion shipyards. We currently have 52 Mk VII vipers in service, 6 are down in various stages of disrepair."

"Well we took in a major haul of Tylium and raw metal supplies from a toaster outpost we took out a few months back, I'm sure we'll be able to resupply Pacifica." Said Vixon.

"Why Becky…congratulations!" said Ghostrider sarcastically. "I wasn't aware that you were made commander, perhaps you'd care to give the good major a few of our pilots while you're at it." Looking straight ahead, Becky Zathras displayed an obscene gesture to her fellow Dragon.

"Don't mind Ghostrider, Major…he's been blacklisted from most women aboard Galactica, so he's been 'winking it' for months, it's making him cranky!" Widow Maker smiled politely, she was unused to such crudity aboard Pacifica, she took another pull of her beer. 'Yes…this is going to take some time getting used to' she thought to herself.

 **From the Adama Journals:**

 _For the second time since the destruction of the Colonies, we have encountered another Battlestar spared from the Cylon's cowardly onslaught. The Battlestar Pacifica; under the command of old friend Rear Admiral Mack Culverhouse, has returned from the dead. Like Pegasus before her, she was fortunate enough to have had her network down at the time of the surprise attack and was able to jump to safety._

 _Unlike Admiral Cain, Culverhouse did his best to remain off Cylon dradis. Utilizing hit and run tactics on fuel depots and ammunition dumps either owned or captured by the Cylon Empire. The timing for Pacifica could not have been more fortuitous, her fuel load was slightly above reserve levels when encountered by Galactica's Combat Air Patrol. I have ordered the refueling ship to replenish Pacifica, but this will take at least four loads. They refinery ship has gone to round-the-clock shifts to process their Tylium into the fuel needed to replenish a Battlestar. Fortunately, the civilian fleet and Galactica are presently at maximum fuel loads, but once Pacifica has been fully fueled, our refinery ship will be at seriously low levels. It would be prudent to start searching now for more tylium sources._

 _The President's concerns for Admiral Culverhouse's command intentions had been uncomfortably voiced at dinner with him. While he outranks me in time and grade, it would be proper for him to assume command of the fleet if he had chosen to do so. As is characteristic of Mack, he chose what was best for the many, instead of the one, even if military protocol would fully support his actions if he chose to assume command. For the time being, Admiral Culverhouse has accepted a support position, and Pacifica will be stationed at the far end of the fleet protecting our rear. As I do not intend to repeat Admiral Cain's mistakes, no transfers or integration of military personnel are planned. However, the Pacifica has an operational and modern flight simulator that will be used to train new pilots needed to replenish both our air wings. I have instructed Major Scorpio to resupply Pacifica's munitions immediately, and a meeting between senior staff will be commenced at 1700 hours tomorrow to discuss our next course of action regarding staffing Pacifica from the civilian fleet with qualified personnel after extensive training, and our journey to Earth._

Colonel T. Morlock sat across the desk from Mack; on his knee, he balanced a mug containing his preferred brew of Cancerian coffee, a rare commodity up until now. Since joining the fleet, the Pacifica had been slowly resupplied with basics that had long been scarce or absent entirely since the fall of the colonies.

"We have just completed the first of four refuelings, and Raptors from Galactica have been arriving all morning with munitions and other basics, Admiral." Reported the executive officer.

"Excellent XO, I want to start leave for the crew as soon as possible, the captain of the luxury liner Caprica Clipper has been gracious enough to put our crew at the top of their list for recreation. We will do rotations of 36 hours not to exceed personnel numbering 16 to start with. I'm sure this will take the edge off our people after the last year and a half." Said Mack.

"Affirmative sir." Morlock sat there eying Mack, saying nothing.

"Out with-it XO!" said Culverhouse recognizing that look.

"Is there any particular reason why you are not exercising your rights and authority under military law to assume command of the fleet?" Mack leaned back in his chair and interlaced his fingers behind his skull. He let out an audible sigh.

"Tom, you read the logs, with what happened with Cain." Started Mack.

"You aren't Cain, she was unbalanced and should have been relieved of command the moment she put a bullet through the head of her number two." Responded Morlock.

"Billy Adama has been in command of this ragtag, fugitive excuse for a fleet since the destruction of the Colonies. Between him and the president, they had kept the last remnants of the twelve colonies alive in the face of total annihilation from the Cylons, and threat from the Eastern Alliance. He knows the ins and outs of this fleet, the individual ship captains and tactical situation. It would take me weeks, if not months to get brought up to speed. To be honest…I can't say I'm disappointed to not have the weight of the twelve worlds upon these old shoulders. This is Adama's fleet, until he demonstrates any incapacity or malfeasance; it will remain under his command."

"I understand, sir. Onto other matters…" said Morlock shuffling through his notes. "Omega squadron is flying CAP currently, and Pacifica has assumed station at the rear of the convoy. We are almost out of this quadrant, and I've detailed Raptor 3 to remain on station for 12 hours after the fleet has jumped to scan for any Cylon trailers."

"Excellent Tom," replied a visibly tired Culverhouse. "after so long of being on our own, I think I'll get my first real night's sleep knowing that we now have a purpose, the journey to find our new home, and knowing that we're no longer alone and making a difference."

Tari was surprised to see Lt. Kara "Destiny" Fan waiting for her in the pilot's quarters, she was in her workout outfit, and by the amount of sweat covering her well-toned body, it was apparent she had just come from the gym. "Hey Kara!"

"Hey Tari, if you're free tonight I'm heading down to the lounge, there are two extremely hot viper jocks from Pacifica on board, and I happen to know for a fact they'll be there." Said a smiling Destiny.

"What would viper jocks from Pacifica be doing aboard Galactica? There are no plans for integration that I know of." Asked Tari.

"Specialized maintenance to their Mk. VII's, apparently their deck chief sent them over to Tyrol to have him check out a problem he couldn't handle or some such thing. Anyway, they are here, and they are hot. I need to get laid!"

Tari laughed aloud, Kara was indeed a woman who knew what she wanted and was not afraid to let you know what it was, especially if it was a subject that was intimate. She hung around Starbuck too much she thought to herself. "I don't know…I'm not committing to an answer either way at this point. There is a card game going on down in the knuckle-dragger's quarters that I was invited to. I'd hate to miss an opportunity to relieve them of some cubits." Laughed Tari slipping off her well-polished uniform boots. She hung her blue duty uniform blouse in her locker and pulled out a book.

"Where the frak did you get that?" said Kara immediately zeroing in on the thick book. Kara Fan had read every book on Galactica at least three times, and constantly was on the look-out for new reading materials whenever visiting other ships in the fleet. It was a story about a serial murderer from Picon who focused solely on socialators. A socialator was a 4,000-year-old profession sanctified by the "elders" of Kobol wherein a person obliges the desires of others. There had been a reemergence of that ancient profession on various ships throughout the fleet since the exodus, most notably on the Prometheus.

"It's on loan from a viper jock from Alpha squadron aboard Pacifica; the guy has a serious collection of leather-bounds from murder mystery to a complete reproduction of the Sacred Scrolls. He could get rich just by renting them out." Replied Tari as she pulled out a pair of sweat pants and black tank top.

"So, you really are going to blow me off, and the opportunity to hook up with some hot sticks?" asked Destiny with a disappointed look.

"I'm afraid so Kara, maybe you could entice Starbuck or Betty to join you instead. If I need to get laid it sure as hell won't be from some random viper jock looking to knock off a piece." Laughed Tari as she secured her locker door.

The resurrection ship was strategically placed between the two Basestars; the trio had been trailing Galactica and her fleet for less than a parsec now. In the command and control center, Cavil stood before the Data-stream, hands clasped behind his back. Before him stood Caprica 6 and a visitor, Dr. Gaius Baltar. The former President of the Colonies, and prime instrument in their defeat, and near extinction.

"You see Doctor; it is merely a matter of several more jumps before we overtake Adama and his pathetic fleet. The trail is warm, and Admiral Adama isn't as clever as he would like to think." Said Cavil smugly. "Cylon technology as you of all people should know, is far more advanced than Colonial, our 'noses' so-to-speak, is infinitely more sensitive than yours. It was only a matter of time before we picked up the trail."

"Perhaps you of all people should remember that "He who boasts loudest, loses most!" retorted Baltar. Caprica 6 smiled and placed her arm around Baltar's shoulders. Cavil's smile turned into a frown. He despised Baltar and would sooner have flushed him out the nearest airlock, but that was impossible, he was under the protection of Caprica 6.

"Caprica dear, could you teach your pet to mind his betters, please?"

Leoben, who was standing to the side accessing the Data-stream, quickly looked up. "We have a contact…sector 4. Our patrol has picked up a trailing Raptor and jumped away before being detected."

"Dr. Baltar I am pleased to inform you that you will soon be a very important man, you will be the sole surviving member of the human race." Said Cavil as he abruptly departed the room.

Matt Lensherr was making his way back to his quarters when he crossed paths with newly minted Lieutenant Tari Adama. "Good evening Ares."

"Good evening yourself, Hephaestus. What brings the fire god to these parts?" She asked. Lensherr thought he detected a slight purr to her response. Was she flirting with him? Gods knew she was attractive, but she was also the old man's daughter. 'Tread carefully' he thought.

"Heard there was a high stakes card game with the knuckle draggers, but the table is full, and there's at least 10 more players waiting to get into the game. No sense in wasting my night for a possibility of an opening." Replied Matt. A frown replaced the smile on Tari's face; apparently, she wouldn't be taking part in the game either.

"Frak…it would seem we're both free for the night, lets grab a drink!" said Ares gripping Lensherr by the arm.

 **Galactica CIC**

Saul Tigh stood by the plotting table reviewing star charts; they had now entered a new star system. This was a unique system by Colonial standards; the system they entered was a trinary system consisting of three stars. These systems were smaller than open star clusters, which have more complex dynamics and typically have from 100 to 1,000 stars. Several planetoids were detected, and a recon patrol launched. The patrol was under the command of Captain Jon Horlach of Red Aces squadron, his wing mates were Rogue and Destiny, Raptor 1 flew ahead of its protection.

"Raptor 1 – Peacemaker…what is your pretty little nose telling you, Nina?"

Aboard Raptor 1 Major Nina Nintius glanced over to her ECO and smiled. "He has such a way with words, doesn't he?" The truth was that Nina enjoyed the former Libran police officer's playful banter. The only bigger flirts in the fleet were Ghostrider and the irascible Nightstalker. "Peacemaker – Raptor 1…I have zero readings from planet number one, dry and barren with zero atmosphere."

"Kind of spooky out here Nina, I haven't seen too many trinary systems in my lifetime. I hope that one of these planetoids will contain some tylium, refueling Pacifica has gutted the gains we made from that Cylon outpost in fuel surplus." Said Horlach, as he glanced out his canopy into the blackness of the system.

"Well planetoid one is a major bust, two to go…maybe the gods will smile upon us." Nintius was not a religious person, but she liked that saying and saw no harm using it.

"Maybe the gods will smile upon me knocking off a piece with Tomboy or Orion…or both!" exclaimed Lt. Mick Rogue loudly. He was bored, recon patrols 'sucked dead skin-job testicles' he would often proclaim to anyone who would listen.

"Oh, I'm sure Sophia and Anastashia would feel so fraking honored to be providing you the 'piece' Rogue!" chimed in Destiny from her viper positioned on Rogue's eight o'clock high position.

"Well sweet Kara, if we weren't in the same squadron I'd gladly bestow that honor upon you," lamented Mick, 'but alas…you know my personal policy of 'dipping one's pen in company ink."

"You keep telling yourself that Rogue, I'm sure it'll help you and your hand on those lonely nights in the rack." Laughed Destiny.

"Alright children, let's give it a rest, shall we? This is a new system, let's stay alert." Said Peacemaker over the comline. The patrol was scheduled for another six hours, and it was now on to planetoid number two.

 **Cylon Basestar – currently trailing just outside dradis range of the fleet.**

Baltar's eyes slowly opened, the soft background hum of the Basestar now went completely unnoticed. Even the red pulsing lights at knee level of his spacious room did not draw his notice. He lay sprawled out on the four-post king-sized bed provided by his hosts. The room is furnished with replicas of 15th century Caprican furniture that Gaius was fond of. Reproductions of rare Colonial oil paintings now lost, adorned the metallic walls. His eyes fell upon a large painting of Mount Olympus, home of the gods.

The painting depicts various gods in the court of Zeus, most prominent being that of Zeus' sister Hestia, Goddess of the Hearth. Baltar always found that painting strange; Hestia was the virgin goddess with no distinct personality or major role in mythology. She was the most honorable and charitable of the gods, he wondered why his hosts chose that painting for his quarters; his attention shifted.

His companion shifted in the silk sheets, her naked body flawless, beautiful, and very warm to the touch. Her platinum blond hair cascaded across her shoulders, stopping just above the top of her perfect breasts. Gaius looked deeply into blue eyes that were the kind that you can look into and feel like you were getting lost. Caprica 6 had the most alluring eyes he had ever encountered in a woman. He felt that the eyes were a window to not only the soul, but also the ensemble of human emotion and that was more beautiful than words can describe. Caprica 6 was the love of his life, his guardian angel, but even he did not know if she was more human than Cylon construct.

"Gaius?" Even awakening from a sound sleep her voice was melodic, thought Baltar. He loved her, maybe not at first; that was pure lust. It was not until she revealed that she was a Cylon, and that with his help, she had been able to access the defense main frame to implant the virus that would allow Cylon warships to instantly disable and ultimately destroy Colonial defenses that Gaius had known her true strengths and ability. She physically saved his life from the shock wave generated by a nuclear detonation with her own life, hardly the act of an unthinking and cold machine.

From his escape from Caprica to now, she had been there for him, mostly in his thoughts and dreams. Now she was there in the flesh. He escaped from New Caprica with her help, but he could never return to the fleet. Like it or not, his fate and safety now resided with her and the Cylon Basestar he was aboard. He was well treated by most of the humanoid Cylons, only the Cavil model seemed to disdain him, but not even he dared to harm him.

"You slept well." He replied softly, kissing her ear. She smiled and ran her long fingers down his chest. He was instantly aroused, she smiled.

"Now where did we leave off?" she purred. Gaius had gently rolled her onto her back when he heard the distinctive metal on metal footsteps enter the room. The centurion hovered over the bed silently. Its red eye rotating back and forth, Six frowned…obviously the metallic construct, and humanoid successor were in communication on a non-verbal level. "You may leave us!" ordered the Six. The metallic monstrosity immediately obeyed.

"Problems?" queried Baltar.

"My presence is requested in the command and control center. Get dressed and join me my love. She slipped out of bed gracefully, over six feet tall she moved like the dancers in the Caprican Ballet that Baltar used to frequent in earlier times. Every move was poetry, and Gaius smiled. She slipped into a cream-colored outfit that accented every part of her body. She held aloft a long white robe with light blue sash for him to wear. Like most refuges from the exodus, Baltar escaped with the clothes on his back. Newly tailored clothes were difficult and expensive to obtain within the fleet. Aboard the Basestar, Gaius Baltar suffered no such restraints. Magnificent wardrobes were manufactured for him, he wanted for little. Was life here so terrible, he thought?

In a matter of moments, the two traversed the numerous identical hallways from Baltar's quarters to the command and control center of the Basestar. Baltar would never figure just how any of these people found anything on board the massive Cylon capital ship. Every hallway was identical. They entered the control room and approached the center of the room that contained the data-stream and interface basins. A six and Boomer model joined two Leoben models. Cavil stood to the side, arms across his chest with a smile across his face.

"Ah Dr. Baltar, so glad you could join us. I like the robe!" he stated sarcastically. Baltar ignored the snide comment and walked up to the cascading data-stream. It never failed to amaze him how fascinating Cylon technology was.

"What has happened?" asked Caprica 6.

Cavil stepped forward rubbing his hands together. "I am pleased to announce that we have finally secured the exact location of the renegade fleet. I think it's about time we've concluded our affairs."

 **Battlestar Pacifica – three months ago.**

The Marine guard quickly stood aside from the rotating glass doors leading into the CIC making room for Culverhouse who was now slowing down from a full run. The ship was at "condition one" alert status. "Sit rep, Colonel!" demanded Culverhouse stepping up to the plotting table. Colonel T. Morlock's face was a mask of deep concern. Cylon fighters jumped in from nowhere and were now swarming all over the Battlestar.

"We've got bandits in our perimeter Admiral; Cylon raiders jumped in and took out our CAP in the opening attack. All squadrons are launching as we speak. The ship shuddered from various runs made by heavy raiders launching heavy missiles.

"What the hell? We're too far inside to be feeling the impacts from fighters." said Culverhouse gripping the edge of the table to balance himself. The CIC of a Colonial Battlestar was safely situated deep within the interior "alligator head" of the Battlestar, where the main hull meets the mid-ship section, for impacts to be felt the weapons must be powerful. The tactical officer spoke up.

"Sir, Cylon heavy raiders launching penetrator missiles from within the security envelope! Extensive damage to decks 11 through 20, section 22 through 50."

"Triple-A fire set to close quarter discharge, advise vipers to stand clear and take out what escapes the barrage." Ordered Culverhouse. Pacifica's point defense turrets reconfigured their firing solution and discharged a violent barrage of death at close quarter range. Viper pilots made sure they remained out of the firing solution and waited whatever heavy raider that desperately attempted to escape the latticework of death.

"Tactical, where the hell did they come from, is there a Basestar anywhere?"

"Nothing on Dradis, Admiral; the raiders just jumped in." replied the Tactical officer.

Morlock was getting damage reports over his earpiece, the ship was taking a pounding, but the close quarter firing of the point defense guns seemed to alleviate the onslaught. "Admiral, we have a hull breach in section 34 through 36 of deck 17. Crews sealed off the hatchways and report no loss of life."

Major Tamara Hawks rolled her viper just as the raider opened fire, barely escaping having her port wing sliced off. The fire was thick, and she barely missed running headlong into offensive fire from one of her own vipers. Raiders filled the sky, and the hopelessly outnumbered vipers were miraculously holding their own, but they could not hold out forever. As soon as Pacifica was spooled up to jump the recall order would come through, and every viper would have to make a combat landing through a wall of enemy fire.

"Widow Maker – Spoons…you've got a pair bearing down on you from two o'clock high!" the warning was just in time as she banked low and right letting the enemy craft fly over and past her. Two vipers lit up the offending raiders and Hawks looked over her shoulder to see one hell of a dogfight.

"All wings this is the CAG…don't venture out too far from Pacifica, as soon as the recall comes in you'd better all move your asses for the landing bays!" she warned. Her Dradis picked up a new signal. An enemy Basestar had just jumped into the area, just out of Pacifica's firing range.

"Enemy Basestar 126 carom 447, Admiral!" warned Tactical.

"Oh, this just keeps getting better, XO." said Culverhouse. It was only a matter of time before Cylon reinforcements arrived.

"FTL drives are spooled up, Admiral." Informed Morlock.

"Recall the air wing, Colonel. Let's get our planes back on board and get out of here!" The recall order was transmitted over the secured frequency, and Mk. VII vipers sped for the safety of the landing bay.

"Position of the Basestar, Colonel?"

"Holding position just outside of our effective firing range, Admiral." Culverhouse despised retreats, tactical or otherwise. If he was leaving, he was doing so on his terms.

"Tactical, I want a short jump, bring us alongside that Basestar and prepare to immediately jump to new standby coordinates." Ordered Culverhouse.

"We're attacking the Basestar?" said Morlock, more statement than question. The look on Mack Culverhouse's face spoke volumes, and Morlock realized he did not even need to ask that question in the first place.

"Affirmative XO, if we have to leave I'd like to take the damned Basestar out and leave those slit-eyed bastards without a place to land!" informed Mack. "Helm…the moment we come out of the jump I want you to roll us so that our topside batteries can give them a full spread!"

Widow Maker was the last to land, and she was relieved to learn she only lost six vipers, two assigned to the CAP, and four during the battle. She was expecting far worse, but her air wing came through. The Landing Signal Officer notified the CIC that the bays were secured, with that the ship vanished. It materialized off the port side of the Basestar and immediately rolled over to train her dorsal batteries from bow to stern onto the surprised Basestar. Pacifica's dradis picked up the immediate course change of the raiders they had just left, the Cylons were incredibly fast, but Pacifica had jumped right on top of the Basestar and targeted the missile launchers on the Y-shaped hull they were now facing.

"Extensive damage to Basestar's offensive batteries, Admiral!" reported Morlock. Basestars relied heavily on their Raiders for close-range gun defense. Since a Basestar does not appear to have point-defense batteries, or heavy armoring, it was vulnerable to Battlestars in close-range combat when fighter support is not prominent…which was presently the case.

"Pour it on XO, give those bastards a good taste of our artillery." Ordered Culverhouse. Pacifica rained down a withering barrage of fire from thirty plus primary dorsal cannons.

Morlock kept his eyes on the Dradis; the raiders had regrouped and were inbound to protect their Baseships. "Incoming raiders, three minutes out, Admiral!" advised the executive officer.

"Standby to jump!" The raiders were like an angered swarm of bees bearing down on their target. "Weapons…last chance to split the Basestar, I want a full spread pinpointed on the lower half of the center axis…execute!" ordered the Admiral. The primary cannons opened up and scored a perfect hit courtesy of the now-repaired targeting system in the offensive grid. The fissure started slowly at first, then traveled quickly up the vertical center axis connecting the two Y-shaped hulls.

"That's it folks, time to leave…jump!" Pacifica disappeared just as the Basestar exploded violently.

 **From the Culverhouse Journals:**

 _The feeling of satisfaction has spread throughout every member of the ship, we destroyed a Basestar, leaving its raider compliment drifting dead in space. Even if they attempted to jump away, the chances of them reaching anything was remote. We may not have weakened their massive fleet, but we have put them on notice that we are not going to live on our knees but die on our feet fighting their oppression!_

 _Fuel load is a concern presently, under old military operational protocols, there is no way a Battlestar commander would ever allow his ship to fall to such a dangerously low fuel level. Unfortunately, there are no fueling ships, or Colonial ground bases in existence anymore, and now we find ourselves raiding small enemy fueling depots, praying we have enough time to steal what we can before Cylon reinforcements arrive to protect their assets._

 _Food has not become a serious problem yet, we were able to raid a remote Colonial satellite power station that the Cylons had not found immediately after the attacks on the Colonies. One hundred personnel had been rescued, and thankfully, they had a full storage facility of foodstuffs and liquids, at least a year's supply. Aboard a fully staffed Colonial Battlestar, that year supply shrank to three months. We have been taking on algae from whatever habitable planets we come across to process and dry freeze it for future shortages._

 _Colonel Morlock and I have discussed our future, and we both have concluded that we must escape Colonial-charted known space and seek refuge far outside our own star system if our people are to have a chance to survive. May the Gods grant us their protection, and if they won't….frak em!_


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5.

 **Battlestar Galactica – present day.**

"Dee, has there been any word from Major Nintius' recon patrol?" asked Adama.

"She's scheduled to check in at any moment sir." Replied Dualla.

Something about this sector did not sit well with Adama, he did not know what it was, but knew deep down that it would be better for them to move along as soon as possible. He turned to Tigh and ordered him to have all flight crews restricted to the areas around the launch bays, and to shut down the alcohol being served to off duty pilots. He wanted the fleet's defenders ready to launch if something happened.

The recon patrol was in the final leg of its assigned mission, and Peacemaker was anxious to return to the fleet. "Betty – Peacemaker, it looks like this last planetoid is a bust, not one tylium reading."

"It's looking that way Captain, I was about to radio the 'bucket' to give them our progress report…or lack of." Replied Nintius. Before Horlach could reply the Dradis aboard each Colonial ship sounded. Multiple contacts bearing down on them. "Incoming Cylons, I've got a Basestar jumping into range, 222 carom 126 and closing."

"All wings – Peacemaker, we've got way too many coming in…let's head back to the fleet. Raptor 1 you are to jump back to Galactica immediately, the odds are stacked far too high against the four of us!" ordered peacemaker. Nina wanted to put the new and improved Taz into the fight, but she knew Horlach was right. He, Destiny and Rogue were going to have their hands full trying to escape the incoming bandits, the only way she could outrun the faster star fighters would be to jump away.

"Peacemaker – Betty…I'll be back with the Calvary!"

"Don't take too long Nina!" chimed in Lt. Mick Rogue. A second later Raptor 1 jumped away.

 **Galactica CIC**

"Mr. Gaeta, bring the ship to condition 1 and prepare to launch the alert fighters!" ordered Adama.

A Cylon Basestar had materialized just outside of the fleet's security perimeter and was launching fighters. "Order the fleet to jump to emergency coordinates and get me Admiral Culverhouse on the line!"

One by one the civilian ships of the fleet jumped away to safety as Galactica came about to position herself to engage the incoming Basestar. The Cylons jumped in closer to the rear of the fleet where Pacifica was on station. Her main guns coming alive just as the call from Adama was patched through.

"This is Pacifica Actual…go ahead Admiral." Said Culverhouse over the secure military comline between Battlestars.

"Mack it would appear the enemy has jumped within your capable clutches; can you hold them off until the fleet jumps away?" asked Adama.

"Need you even ask that question, Bill? You've still got recon ships to recover, I can handle what they can throw at us, just make sure those civies get away before the rest of the Cylon fleet arrives." Adama knew that the more advanced Pacifica could hold its own against the Cylon's capital ships, with two Battlestars now one could jump ahead to protect the fleet while the other remained to protect the retreat. While he would prefer to be the one covering the retreat, Culverhouse was closer.

"Good luck to you Mack, see you on the side." Replied Adama.

"Dee, what's the status on Peacemaker's patrol?"

"He's been ordered to not engage their incoming, and to return to Galactica with all speed. They're 10 minutes out at full battle thrusters." Reported Lt. Dualla.

"Instruct them to land in landing bay alpha, as soon as they're aboard we can jump to the emergency coordinates." Instructed Adama as he turned to Tigh. "I don't like the idea of jumping away and leaving them alone to cover the retreat." Said Adama quietly.

"Bill, you know Pacifica is more than a match for any Cylon warship, if he doesn't get too bogged down by those slit eyed black bastards than he should make short work of the Baseship." Replied the executive officer in his usual gruff voice. Adama did not reply, he kept his eye on the Dradis, tracking his three incoming recon vipers, and the departure of his civilian fleet.

 **CIC - Battlestar Pacifica**

"Colonel Morlock, status of the fleet?"

"They're down to six ships sir, and the recon patrol has been recovered. Our squadrons are holding off the bulk of the initial raiders, but they keep getting reinforced, they're approaching the point of being lethally outnumbered." Warned Morlock. Pacifica's air wing was doing a tremendous job at cutting down the raiders, but the numbers against them were growing by the minute.

"Incoming ordinance Admiral!" called out the tactical officer. Six Cylon missiles powered their way through the Battlestar's field of defensive fire, striking with a vengeance. The ship shuttered under the assault.

"Admiral, we need to recover our air wing, there are close to 400 raiders out there, and the numbers keep climbing." Said Morlock with a note of concern in his voice. Colonial viper pilots were far superior to the bio-mechanical raider, but even with the advanced Mk. VIIs; the battle was starting to turn against them.

"Helm…I want full power to the main engines, bring us in close to the Basestar and be prepared to pivot on my command. Tactical give me a six-point spread of fire on their center axis." ordered Culverhouse. The massive Colonial warship surged forward, causing swarming raiders to part. Vipers made combat landings under the protection of the point defense turrets that ringed the flight pods. The defense turrets were in sync with each viper as it made its final approach, ceasing fire now they picked up the viper's transponder, allowing it to pass through the flak unmolested.

Aboard the Cylon Basestar, the humanoid Cylons are surprised to learn they are not in combat with the Galactica, but another Battlestar entirely. Cavil stood at the data stream analyzing the information.

"Well this is a troubling situation my friends, apparently our brothers and sisters were not as thorough as they thought they were in wiping out Colonial fleet back in our attack on the twelve worlds."

Leoben looked up and informed the gathering that the Hybrid had identified the rogue Battlestar as the Pacifica, under command of Rear Admiral Mack Culverhouse. Doral removed his hands from the basin containing the data stream and spoke.

"I know of this Battlestar Commander, he is quite capable…as is the executive officer."

"Oh…celebrities in our midst, how wonderful!" mocked Cavil.

"Admiral Culverhouse has sent quite a few of our brothers to their resurrection ships since our attack on the Colonies, and in his youth, he was just as formidable, if not more so. I would suggest caution!" warned Doral.

"Oh, please spare me; brother…I don't swoon at Colonial lore or its would-be heroes. Culverhouse is no less a pestilence than the rest of that miserable race. Send out the remaining raiders…every one of them and let not even one return until the Pacifica is left a floating mass of cosmic dust."

The offensive fire continues to strike Pacifica with a relentless fury, damage control stations report heavy damage to the bow section. Culverhouse maintains his course, returning fire, plowing through raiders like a scythe through chafe.

"Brothers, we are taking extensive damage throughout the ship, they are concentrating their firepower on the axis of our ship, we must withdraw before we're destroyed." Said Leoben. The Basestar was rocking violently, Pacifica was inflicting serious damage to the ship, and the Hybrid was reporting systems failures throughout.

"Admiral, the raider force has intensified…and we're now picking up new contacts; no doubt the raiders that were pursuing Galactica's recon patrol." Reported tactical.

Morlock was quickly at Culverhouse's side, "We must leave…now! We're taking serious punishment and can't afford to have our FTL's taken out."

"Damn it Tom, I want that fraking Basestar taken out." Morlock leaned in close, he never disagreed with his commander publicly, but this was too serious, and damage control stations were reporting in at an alarming rate, he lowered his voice to just above a whisper.

"Admiral, we need to get out of here while we still can." Culverhouse served with Morlock for long enough to know when his number two was nervous, he valued Morlock's advice above all else and seldom ignored him. He knew the XO was right, and the ship was taking a hell of a beating. It would have been hideously irresponsible to stay in the firefight, it was not just his crew that depended on him; but the remainder of humanity awaiting their arrival at the emergency jump coordinates.

"Weapons…fire off one last volley and let's get the hell out of here. Helm…jump us out of here the moment after the missiles clear the tubes!" ordered Culverhouse. Four of the six bow launchers fired off their missiles, tubes two and six were heavily damaged and unresponsive. No sooner had the missiles launched did Pacifica disappear.

The fleet continued its journey through sector twelve of system number 1104 without incident, a large dead planet inhabited this sector and a patrol sent to investigate. Pacifica CAG Major Tamara Hawks spearheads the recon patrol. Four Mk. VII vipers and a raptor spread out in perfect formation.

"Raptor six – Widowmaker…can you repeat that?"

"The planet is unremarkable, but I'm picking up an incredible centralized, metallic reading in a very remote area." Replied the Raptor pilot.

"All wings – Widowmaker…let's take it down to the deck and get a closer look." The vipers rolled in one after the other in perfect execution. Widowmaker was a perfectionist and stern CAG who drilled her pilots to perfection. Many air combat competitions were won by Pacifica's air wing thanks to Tamara Hawks. There was no cloud cover to break through, and before each pilot's eyes was a barren, reddish planet that was unremarkable in every sense.

A large jagged trench cut across the surface of the planet, the vipers flew in low following its path. Large swaths of debris fields littered the surface and Widowmaker wondered what could have left such devastation. The jagged trench extended miles and looked old. Her eyes darted across the landscape, then widened in horror.

"Skipper is that what I think it is?" came the voice of Beta 2, her wing-man Widowmaker brought her viper into a slow, lazy turn to take another pass over the debris in question.

"Unfrakenbelievable"…said Widowmaker quietly. "This I have to report!"

 **Battlestar Galactica – Pilot's ready room.**

Matthew Lensherr sat with his legs up on the seat in front of him; a very uncomfortable Mark Sarnex paced the room before him. "I have to admit… it was original." Laughed Lensherr.

"Oh, I'll give him original, I have second degree steam burns all over my fraking body," hissed Sarnex. "You don't even want to know where that poor ensign is burned." The two men had the room to themselves; they had gotten there 15 minutes prior to a scheduled briefing. Matt had not seen Mark so angry before and worried what was going to happen when Ghostrider and Mark's path crossed.

"You realize of course you have no proof it was him!" offered Matt gesturing with his hands palms up.

"Of course, I do, but what the frak do you think my years back in Fleet Intelligence taught me?

Don't you think that I see that smug fraker's fingerprints all over this? Don't worry Hephaestus…I won't do anything to him…yet, nor will it be in your presence." The conversation was interrupted.

"Hello boys, am I interrupting anything?" came the soft voice of Lieutenant Tari Adama. Rumor of Mark Sarnex' s carnal mishap traveled like wildfire throughout the ranks of the air wing. It was taking all her effort to contain her laughter. "Mark…you don't look well." Teased Tari as she plopped down in the seat next to Matt; her hand brushing against his thigh.

Sarnex threw his head back, eyes rolling. "Oh, for the love of the fraking gods, not you too." He sat down behind the two pilots and sulked. "Laugh it up you two, trust me…Wolfe will get his soon enough. More viper pilots walked in, and soon Ghostrider arrived. He sat two rows behind Nightstalker, and when Mark turned to glare at him, he touched his two fingers to his brow as if saluting and smiled.

Major Lee Adama finally strolled into the ready room and took his place behind the lectern, Starbuck stood to the side of the room smoking a cigar. "As you were!" he said as pilots leaped to their feet. He looked up around the room and stopped at Nightstalker. "Have you been tanning out by the fake sunlight of Cloud Nine again, Sarnex?" The room erupted with laughter, and Sarnex just smiled coolly.

"Alright folks, let's settle down." Said Apollo shuffling through some notes. "This system is not providing any suitable planets in the way of water or algae, so I can't imagine the old man will keep us here long. Pacifica has a recon patrol out by the large planet as we speak and should be reporting in sometime soon."

Nina Nintius leaned back in her chair and spoke up. "What about those rumors that the old man wants to transfer some personnel over to Pacifica, is he talking any of the air wing?"

"As far as I know, there are no plans to integrate air wings." Replied Apollo. "My guess is that the Admiral doesn't want to repeat the Pegasus fiasco. It sounds like the rumor mill is working overtime again. Starbuck?"

"I concur, nothing but rumors started by fraking old ladies with too much time on their hands. Onto other matters…the knuckle draggers are complaining about the heavy landings again. Some of you are beating the hell out of the decks, and your landing gear and need to lighten up otherwise you will find your sorry asses detailed to the deck gang to hammer out those divots on the flight deck.

"Alright that just about wraps things up, Silver Spar squadron has CAP next rotation, and Blue squadron is scheduled to be taken offline for the scheduled Dradis software upgrade. Dragon squadron and Red Aces to follow with the Spars coming in last. That's it…good hunting!" The pilots dispersed and Nightstalker and Ghostrider found themselves elbow to elbow at the hatch.

"Nightstalker…you look awful, more so than usual I mean." Taunted Ghostrider.

"I'm feeling fine Ghost, as a matter of fact I've been meaning to thank you for getting shot down by that young ensign from Telemetry, if you weren't such a boor she might not have sought me out to show her what a real good time is. She's a great lay…oh well, you know what they say about 'your loss." Said Sarnex.

 **CIC - Battlestar Pacifica**

"Admiral Culverhouse, Beta squadron on approach requesting priority landing." Informed the tactical officer.

"Is Widowmaker declaring an emergency?" asked Mack looking concerned.

"Negative sir, but she's approaching on full battle thrusters."

"She's cleared to land on Alpha landing bay." Ordered Culverhouse.

Major Tamara Hawks was soon being lowered into the hanger bay, and when the ladder was put up against her fuselage, she jumped out and exited the bay without doing a post flight check, destination CIC.

Within the hour, the camera footage from Raptor 6 was developed and loaded into the projector in the secure room. The room contained Culverhouse, Morlock, Hawks and the technician running the equipment. Hawks spoke softly. "The debris field was measured at sixteen clicks from the initial point of impact…which was massive. To travel that distance meant the ship had to be traveling at flank speed when it crashed."

The camera aboard the Raptor slowly scanned over large, twisted and burned metallic refuse. Barely recognizable to the untrained eye the piece of wreckage the camera came to a stop at caused Culverhouse's jaw to drop. The section of ship was mangled beyond description, but the name was still recognizable.

 ** _Solaria._**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6.

 **Battlestar Galactica – Admiral Adama's quarters.**

Colonel Tigh raised the lights back up to full as the camera footage of Raptor 6 came to a stop on the mangled flight pod bearing the name Solaria. Adama sat at his desk in contemplative thought as Culverhouse searched for a hint of reaction from his old friend.

"The Solaria was Commander Mason's ship, how in the gods names did it get way out here?" asked Adama. "Initial intelligence reported that she was lost in the opening attack along with the Columbia and Triton."

"Unknown Bill, I've assembled three Raptor teams from Pacifica to investigate the wreckage, and whomever you see fit to add to it… awaiting your orders." Said Culverhouse sipping his coffee.

"Saul I'd like you in on that investigation as well," began Adama. "I'd like to keep us all together in the event we need to jump away soon, we'll hold the fleet on station in orbit in the event we have to recover the Raptors quickly."

"Will you be informing the President and the quorum?" asked Tigh.

"The president yes, I'm undecided about the quorum, or if this discovery should remain classified and for how long a period." Replied Adama.

"How do you propose to keep it a secret, the other ship captains will wonder why we're orbiting a dead planet?"

"Let them wonder!" snarled Tigh in his usual gruff voice. "Since when do we inform civilian ship captains of military operations?"

"Saul you never change," laughed Culverhouse. "You're still one cantankerous son of a bitch!" Mack Culverhouse knew Saul Tigh just as long as he knew Bill Adama. He liked the man personally but thought him flawed militarily. He did not approve of his willingness to stick his finger in the eye of anyone outside the military and barely-contained sobriety, especially on duty. He knew when Tigh was on his game he could be depended on when push came to shove.

The meeting ended, and it was decided to keep information on the Solaria to those with need-to-know clearance for the time being.

Baltar couldn't catch his breath, the beautiful woman with blonde hair and piercing blue eyes sat atop him, sweat glistening down near-perfect breasts, her smile put him at ease just as much as the last hour of intercourse had. He loved her deeply, even knowing she was not truly human, it did not matter. The woman known as "Six" or "Caprica Six" had been by his side both physically and mentally since before the attacks on the colonies. She was his conscience, and his rock. Here he sat within a Cylon capital ship, the only human, the unknowing architect of the near-destruction of mankind…alone.

"What are you thinking, Gaius?" she purred, gently raking her nails down his bare chest. She loved him just as much as he loved her, and she knew every change in emotion without visual recognition. Back on Caprica, her mission was to meet and seduce Dr. Gaius Baltar; lead defense systems developer working for the Colonial Ministry of Defense. Never did she think she would develop feelings for this human, and she had been primarily responsible for his surviving the attack on humanity because the Cylon agent sacrificed herself to protect him from the devastating pressure wave of nuclear blast.

"Is this all that my future holds, surfing the cosmic storms in a starship containing the instruments of humanity's demise…the lone human?" He did not sound sad, but contemplative. He was not a prisoner, but a guest. The six models in general, Caprica 6 in particular, assured his safety. His quarters were quite regal; he lived far better than any human did in the fleeing Colonial fleet. The best foods, reproductions of the best artworks ever created in Colonial history, and a beautiful woman at his side. He had been elected president by the people of the fleet in an open election, something Laura Roslin had not been, and had not Felix Gaeta found proof of electoral fraud at Roslin's behest, he might have lost the election and remained safely aboard the Galactica to this day, in search of the 13th tribe.

"Are you unhappy here Gaius, have I displeased you?" asked six sincerely.

Baltar detected her concern and replied immediately. "No, of course not. You are the one constant that keeps me alive both emotionally and physically." The last word truer than any other he thought. If not for her, Baltar was sure that the Cavils or Dorals would have introduced him to the nearest airlock.

"What makes me somewhat melancholy I suppose, is that I inhabit magnificently opulent living quarters within a cold and sterile prison. Purposeless, and with one exception utterly alone."

"We will find the home of the thirteenth tribe, Gaius." She began. "When we do, it will be a whole new frontier to explore, perhaps with you revising your role as president?" she said teasingly, her fingers running through the longish hair along his temples.

"Just when I thought this was a prison." He said rolling his eyes. "I'm a scientist, not a politician in need of pontificating and glad-handing."

She slowly lifted herself off him and walked across the thick reproduction of a beautiful rug crafted during the Federal Era. Her height at five feet ten inches tall was two inches taller than Baltar and with the heels she normally wore placed her at six feet. She slipped into a form-fitting black jumper, with a loose-fitting white blouse. Baltar sat up and placed his feet to the ground. A tray composed of silver contained a crystal decanter of strong Aerilonian coffee. He poured two cups, added synthetically made honey and some milk to both. Walking over to the six he handed her the cup, she took it and gently kissed him on the lips.

"We're entering a new star system today, let's see what it offers."

 **Battlestar Pacifica's recon mission – breaking planetary orbit.**

Three Raptors flanked by at least twelve vipers flying protection broke through the gravitational field surrounding the planet. Widowmaker was flying point, and she was taking the deep descent to the planet's surface. The trip took forty minutes from space to surface and soon they were flying over the massive impact crater following the long-jagged trench that scarred the landscape. The debris field was incredible and stretched for miles.

The "alligator head" of the Battlestar was barely recognizable, the damage was indescribable. After three slow passes above the main body of the wreckage, the three Raptors came to a landing at a staging area within walking distance from the biggest part of the wreckage.

The atmosphere was barely breathable. The composition of nitrogen, oxygen, argon and other variable components found on the twelve worlds that made up the former colonies were far below optimal levels. The teams all wore environmental suits and carried various equipment.

Team 1 was tasked with the "alligator head" of the Battlestar, where the main hull meets the mid-ship section. Team 2 were assigned the one flight pod that was still somewhat intact, and team 3 assigned to one large section of wreckage that seemed the least damaged.

Colonel Saul Tigh walked behind two technicians holding radiological detectors, all indications pointed to a radiation-free zone. They gained access through a gaping hole through the crumble up front of the 'head.' Obviously, the ship struck the surface head on. Wreckage consisted of hanging wires, cables and support beams. Skeletal remains filled dark blue duty uniforms, and they were strewn across the area that was nearest to point of entry. Apparently, the force of the impact hurled the unsuspecting bodies against bulkheads with enough force to pulverize or liquefy the fragile human body.

"Numerous remains Colonel, most likely due to the force of impact." Advised a technician.

"Poor bastards, they probably never felt it, force of the damned impact must have turned them to Godsdamned jelly." Replied Tigh over the comline. Commodore Morlock also suited up and in command of the mission nodded in agreement. It took almost an hour to get through the main causeway enroute to the CIC. Teams equipped with cutters led the way, clearing hanging wires and cables, occasionally being slowed by steel support obstructions.

The main objective of the mission was to seek out the remains of the Combat Information Center and access any computer hard drives that might have survived to retrieve any salvageable data that shed light on the last moments of the Battlestar Solaria. The journey to the CIC took far longer than expected due to the massive amount of structural damage. Once the CIC was reached, the recon teams was stunned speechless at the amount of devastation before them. The second deck of the CIC, known only as "the core", was a twisted and mangled mess that was littered with human remains.

The CIC was situated deep within the "alligator's head" for tactical and safety purposes, to protect it from enemy fighters ramming it, or to protect it from decompression due to attack. The fact that there was so much damage present indicated how clear and complete the trauma of the impact was.

Team number 2 crawled up into the forward opening of the flight pod; they would have to make their way towards the middle of the immense landing strip to reach an access hatch. The two hatches they passed were too badly damaged to gain entrance. The team operating the cutters made their way through the blast doors after a half hour and many blades later. A vertical causeway was opened, and the team made their way into the bowels of the port flight pod.

They emerged on the lowest portion that contained the hanger bay. Multiple battery-operated torches were set up in the cavernous bay. It revealed widespread damage. Mk. VII vipers not in their launch tubes were scattered throughout, many of them resting in a mangled heap towards the front of the bay. The result of an immediate de-acceleration, and impact. They would discover at least one squadron firmly locked in the launch tubes, most likely the viper squadrons on alert status when the attack came but were never able to launch. The transmitted their find via wireless to Commodore Morlock.

Team 3 finally gained access to the section that used to house the sickbay. As expected, there was massive devastation and human remains. The Captain in charge of that team gained access to the still-secured medication vault. He radioed to Morlock that the vault was still secure. The remainder of the mission was carried out over the course of twelve more hours as crews rotated out of the dead hulk that was once Solaria.

Aboard Pacifica, Culverhouse and Adama are on a conference call with Morlock down on the surface.

"Our technicians are removing all hard drives from the CIC computers, and any logbooks from the commander's private quarters." Began Morlock. "There is one full squadron of Mk VII's still in the tubes that had remained secured via the rail locks. The remaining air wing has been destroyed or disabled beyond repair, at best we can salvage parts from what's left. The destruction is near total, and the bright spot here may be that the medical vault is still intact with all medicines still within.

"That would be an incredible bright spot Tom, thank you for the report." Said Culverhouse. "What was the fuel load, and can we access any of the munitions?"

"The tanks were literally cut in half, whatever load she was carrying is spilled throughout the debris field. We have unexploded ordinance everywhere, for miles to be exact. We'd be here weeks just trying to collect half of it."

Adama sat across Culverhouse on an extremely soft leather sofa, the one luxury item that Mack allowed himself when he took command of Pacifica. He wanted whatever ordinance they could salvage and knew that Mack would also.

"I think I can speak for Bill when I say that we'll remain on station as long as it takes to salvage what we need. The unexploded ordinance will require specialists to retrieve, and time to do it safely. I think we can arrange for one of the medium-sized civilian ships to touch down so you

guys can establish a temporary base-camp."

"Message received…Morlock out!" The wireless connection was severed, and Culverhouse swiveled in his chair to face Adama.

"Morlock is a good number two Mack, very efficient. While it is paramount to ascertain what happened to Solaria, we need to salvage what we can and get out of this system. I don't like being in one place for too long; we can always go over their logs enroute."

"I concur, Bill. If we can get those fighters out of the tubes, that itself would be a major tactical score. The medicines itself would also be a much-needed boon."

"Agreed. I'm going to put Raptors out on the system's perimeter for an early warning picket, they'll remain on station in 12 hour shifts until we can secure whatever is salvageable and get out of here."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7.

 **Battlestar Pacifica – day four of salvage operation of Battlestar Solaria.**

Rear Admiral Mack Culverhouse paces his private quarters. Executive officer Tom Morlock sits quietly on the leather sofa, mug of Cancerian-brand coffee in hand.

"Four days now, XO. This op is taking too long, and I'm not liking it." Said Culverhouse directly.

"Admiral, the extraction of the vipers from their launch tubes is an operation we have never performed before. Just the opening of the top of the hanger bay into the landing deck itself was a two-day operation. The ship is powerless, and the wreckage so severe that we just cannot back the planes out and taxi them across the bay. We have been able to extricate four of the vipers, with three more expected by day's end. We still have to get them off surface." Replied Morlock calmly.

"If there are no unforeseen mechanical failures I see no reason why they can't power up and take off from the deck itself. We have enough heavy machinery to clear the landing deck and give them a clear shot. Granted it will be a very short take off, but they can do it without the catapults by disengaging the brakes under full turbos."

Both men knew that there was no ideal way to safely launch the extricated vipers, and there was not enough clearance for a Raptor to lift the vipers off the deck and out of the pod. They were going to have to make a straightway from the hole cut into the deck leading into the hanger bay to the end of the forward part of the flight pod's landing bay and pray that the vipers had enough of a runway to take off.

"I'm sure that Bill is wanting to clear this sector as soon as possible, so let's light a fire under their asses Tom…I want this op wrapped up soon."

"Understood." Replied Morlock.

 **Battlestar Galactica – Pilot's quarters.**

Captain Matthew Lensherr rolled over in his bunk, his chest heaving as he breathed deeply. Beside him lay a very satisfied and naked Tari Adama. The hatch was locked down, with a brown regulation tee shirt draped over the latch to inform the other three bunk mates not to enter.

Tari propped herself up onto her elbows, her eyes sparkling from the glow of the candle in the dark stateroom Lensherr shared with the other three squadron leaders. The two had been rumored to be involved for some time, but both made every effort to keep their personal relationship quiet. After all, she was the Admiral's daughter, and junior in rank to Lensherr. "You know Hephaestus, Destiny once wondered what kind of lay you would be…I guess I can now confirm that you are a great fraking lay."

"Flattery will get you everywhere Ares." Countered Lensherr tracing his fingertips down her neck and over her breasts. "I doubt your father or Apollo wondered that though."

"My father would never say anything either way, Lee on the other hand would most likely want to beat you to a pulp."

"Lee needs to pull the staff from his ass and loosen up." The two shared a laugh and lay in bed for another hour before Ares was due to go on duty. She pulled on her underwear, and Matt stared at the scars that desecrated her body. Pegasus' Lieutenant Thorne did a horrific job on Tari while interrogating her for being a suspected Cylon. How anyone could have remained sane on that ship after such treatment perplexed him. It took Tari a long time to even partially open up to him, and he was determined not to push her for more than she was ready to give.

"I wish you didn't have to leave…" began Lensherr. She quickly pressed her fingertip to his lips to cut him off. She then reached down and gently kissed him goodbye. She retrieved her boots and exited the stateroom without a word.

After a moment, the hatch door opened up and in stepped Starbuck. Blue squadron's leader just peered down at Lensherr who was still in bed and smiled. She plopped down next to a surprised Lensherr and peered deep into his eyes. "Do I have to take a number or can we frak now?" teased Kara.

"I'll have to think about that!" laughed Lensherr as he flipped on the light attached to the bottom of the bunk above him. Kara sat up and pulled out a fumarello, she lit it and passed it to Lensherr who also sat up."

Kara gestured to his still naked body. "You gonna put that bad boy away, Heph? The last thing we need is for someone to walk in, you wouldn't want the old man's little princess to get jealous.

"I can't imagine Tari getting jealous about anything, but you're right…so unfair of me to tease you like that." Said Lensherr as he pulled the sheets over his waist. "So, what's the status planet-side?"

"Well rumor mill has it that Culverhouse his shoving his foot in the salvage team's asses to speed them along. They've been able to offload 7 vipers from the launch tubes, and hopefully they're flight worthy. I hear that the vipers in the tubes still had pilots in the cockpit."

"They must have been preparing to launch when they crashed. I hear that they found remains of pilots and knuckle-draggers scattered all around the hanger. Those poor bastards probably never saw the impact coming." Said Lensherr exhaling the sweet smoke of the fumarello.

"Well as much as I feel badly for those poor bastards, that full squadron of Mk VII's are a fraking miracle. Hopefully they're still flight worthy, though I can't see why they wouldn't be, they were locked into their tubes." Said Starbuck getting off Lensherr's bunk and stretching out on her own bunk.

Lensherr stood up and pulled on sweatpants, he was off duty for the remainder of the day, so he decided to head over to the gym to work out. As he exited the state room he heard Starbuck call out "can't you shut that fraking light off, Lensherr?"

 **Command and Control Center aboard Cylon Basestar.**

Dr. Gauis Baltar marveled at the technology, never failing to be impressed by it no matter how long he remained a "guest" aboard the Cylon warship now cruising the cosmos in search of the fleeing human fleet. The jump drive was far superior to the Colonial's jump technology. He barely grasped the intricacies, even when walked through it by Caprica 6. Leoben stepped up beside him, studying the human intently.

"Quite superior to your technology, isn't it doctor?" Leoben never failed in unnerving Baltar whenever he was about. There was something about his model that simultaneously terrified and intrigued Baltar. Cavil was purely dangerous, there was no doubt that to him a good human was a dead human. Simon and Doral models were interesting, and he felt most at ease around the female models. Leoben however was an enigma to him. More prophet than human-hater, Leoben had taken a personal interest in Kara Thrace when they were on New Caprica, locking her away in a prison cell in name only. He kept her well fed, well clothed and in luxurious settings that had one means of egress that was locked. Baltar was unsure if Leoben's attraction to Thrace was that of love, worship, or something else. He knew that Leoben told Kara she had a 'destiny,' but not much else.

"Undoubtedly superior, what a shame though that human and Cylon couldn't coexist peacefully, I would say that between our two races there would be very little we couldn't accomplish if we worked together." Said Baltar looking straight into Leoben's eyes. Leoben cocked his head slightly, and Baltar could swear he detected a faint smile creasing the Cylon's lips.

"Indeed? Perhaps you could extend that olive branch to the humans on our behalf." Said Leoben.

"If I was a betting man I would wager the 'olive branch' would still be clutched in his hands when Adama and his ilk tossed the good doctor out the nearest airlock." Came the voice of Cavil from behind.

 **From the Adama Journals:**

 _The salvage teams are approaching their drop-dead time for cessation of operations at the remains of the Battlestar Solaria we found on the planet in this sector. Admiral Culverhouse is scrutinizing Commander Mason's logbooks, and technicians are attempting to retrieve information from the hard drives in the tactical station's computers._

 _I've made clear my intentions to Admiral Culverhouse to remain on station for as little time as possible to avoid discovery from the Cylons, he has impressed upon his people to make haste. A fully functioning viper squadron was retrieved from the Solaria; apparently, the squadron was prepared to launch when the Solaria crashed. The Mk. VII vipers with their pilots still strapped into the seats were firmly secured into the launch tube catapults, I must assume that likely prevented the vipers from being dislodged at destructive velocity when they crashed._

 _Admiral Culverhouse had an autopsy performed on the pilots to determine cause of death. It was determined that the violent and sudden deceleration caused massive, intra-cranial trauma in the pilots. Death was immediate. The pilots will be given a proper Colonial space burial upon our departure from this system; the remaining crew compliment will remain entombed within the Solaria._

 _Undamaged artillery has been secured and divided evenly between Galactica and Pacifica. What viper parts could be salvaged has already been taken off planet, and it looks like we have salvaged all that we can. It is time to depart._

Mack Culverhouse stepped through the doors of the CIC and walked directly to where his executive officer was positioned, Colonel Morlock was leafing through reports at the plotting table.

"Admiral has the deck!" said Morlock loudly when he noticed the admiral arrive.

"Sitrep XO?"

"Surface crews have returned, and the flight deck is secured. Raptor seven is assigned to remain on station for six hours to check for Cylon pursuit."

"Alright, prepare the ship for departure, and notify Galactica that we are ready to depart."

One by one, the ships of the Colonial civilian fleet jumped away, after holding position to guard the rear, Pacifica soon disappears in a blinding flash.

 **Port hanger bay – Battlestar Galactica.**

Chief Tyrol had just finished inspecting viper 7221, like the other 9 vipers formerly from Solaria they were evenly divided between the two remaining Battlestars and needed to have a more thorough inspection of their critical components.

Quite a few Galactica pilots were loitering around, all with hopes of being assigned near-mint Mk. VII vipers. It had been a long time since any of them had strapped themselves in to fighters that were not cobbled together with spare parts, or barely held together with spit and bailing wire. Falcon was sitting on the nose of an out of service Mk. II viper; he eyeballed the sleek star-fighter before him.

"What's the verdict, Chief?" asked Tony, sliding off the nose onto the deck.

Galen Tyrol just shook his head and replied, "You guys are a bunch of fraking vultures. Did any of you even wait for them to remove the poor bastards that were still strapped in the cockpits? I'm sure the CAG will reassign them when he's ready."

Tony just laughed and ran his hand over the starboard 30mm cannon. "These things never saw any combat; can you imagine that? Near mint condition."

"Well the bright side is that we've added to the air wing, and there are enough spare parts to resupply our stores." Said Tyrol returning his attention to the clipboard in his hands.

Lt. Mark "Nightstalker" Sarnex also was in the hanger, he was checking over his own viper in preparation for his scheduled patrol with Hephaestus.

"So, who do you think we've got to bribe to land one of these beauties, Tony?" asked Mark.

"Sadly, I think Apollo is too honest to take a bribe. My guess is lottery, but the obvious choice would be to replace the 5 worst vipers we have in service." Said Tony. "By the way…how's the steam burn?"

"Ah Falcon, there will be a reckoning for your fellow Dragon, that I can assure you!"

"Reckonings can wait my friend." Came a new voice.

"Ah Hephaestus, right on schedule." Said Sarnex. The two men walked to their assigned vipers to do their preflight checks. Tony Bastain stepped up to Lensherr's viper.

"You realize that Nightstalker is going to pound the fraking hell out of Ghostrider at some point, don't you?" said Bastain quietly. Matt just smiled and turned to face Falcon.

"Tony, those two have had it in for each other since day one, frak em…I'm not Nightstalker's keeper. If it was up to me I'd throw both of their asses into the ring and see who walks out." Falcon pulled a brass flask from his jacket pocket and took a discreet sip from it, slipping it back into his jacket he wished Hephaestus 'good hunting' and exited the hanger.

After being loaded into the launch tube, the large metal doors seal shut. Lensherr glances out the right side of the cockpit to face the launch supervisor.

"All instruments read green…fuel pressure nominal." Says Lensherr over the comline.

"Maglock secure, initiating launch sequence…you are now clear to launch Hephaestus." Said the launch supervisor as he moved his hand towards the launch button that would activate the catapult, hurling the viper down the tubes and out into space. Lensherr nodded, and he was soon sent down range. The same procedure was followed in the next launch tube over with Nightstalker.

Viper 1139 roared down the launch tube and out into space. Captain Matthew Lensherr was putting serious distance between himself and 'the bucket.' It was not long before his wing-man, and fellow CAP flier was at his side.

"Peacemaker – Hephaestus…you and Ares are formally relieved from CAP, go grab some rack time!"

"Hephaestus – Peacemaker…message received and thank you sir. Red Aces are bucket-bound and off duty." Said Red Aces squadron leader Captain Jon Horlach. Ares wiggled the wings of her viper, a private gesture to her lover Matt Lensherr.

The two pilots from Silver Spar squadron settled in for their assigned CAP, and Nightstalker switched over to a private frequency. "So, are you going to tell your old friend and ASL what is going on between you and the Admiral's daughter?"

"Nosy little fraker, aren't you?" laughed Lensherr clearly not providing his old friend an answer either way. Sarnex knew Matt Lensherr well enough to realize that was all he would get on the subject.

The two veteran pilots continued for the remainder of their assigned CAP talking shop and exchanging ideas on various subjects. They glided in perfect unison between civilian ships, keeping a watchful eye on their dradis.

Back on board Galactica, Lt. Steve "Photon" Parsec slides the curtain back on his bunk to let fellow viper pilot Jen "Lucky" Teal slide out. She pulled her black tank top on and reached for her pants that lay in a crumpled heap on the deck.

"Will I see you later babe?" asked Photon.

"After a fraking like that, you have to ask? Better build that stamina of your up pretty boy, I'll expect an encore at 2030 hours." Said Teal as she exited the pilot's quarters. Photon pulled on a set of utilities and made his way to the head for a shower and shave.

The tall man navigated the catacombs of Pacifica's engineering section like a seasoned snipe, a term used by the Colonial military to refer to an engineer. He was indeed a seasoned snipe, aboard Pacifica when the attacks broke out, and served aboard her as she launched guerrilla tactics on the Cylon forces it encountered since the fall of the colonies and reuniting with the remnants of the twelve worlds under the protection of the Galactica. His fellow crewmates like him very much, he is known for speaking calmly and purposefully, always using logic to make his point.

He enters the small hatch and walks straight over to the counter to pour himself a cup of coffee from the urn. Two other engineers sit at a table eating their lunch.

"Well if it isn't the wraith," teased one of the engineers referring to the newcomer. "Climbing out of the bowels of the ship for the briefest of moments to bask in what passes for light aboard a Battlestar?"

"You exaggerate my friend…you see me far more often than that!" he countered.

"Not by much, it's like you're almost hiding from something…you're not a fraking Cylon are you?" laughed the short, portly man wiping his lunch off his chin with his greasy shirtsleeve.

"Okay, you've discovered my secret…I'm a toaster!" he said putting his hands above his head in mock surrender. "You do realize that out of the three of us I have the most essential job in our department. The equipment demands my strictest scrutiny at all times, and I only dream of being able to go topside and mingle with those outside our own ship." He said laughing while sitting down at the far end of the table.

"I'll grant you that, but seriously…do yourself a favor, get the hell out of the pit occasionally, relax and enjoy what passes for life. The dark recesses of Pacifica's engine room aren't doing your complexion any favors."

"My complexion…?" he rolled his eyes and smiled. "I doubt there is anything that will improve it." He replied. The two men soon finished their lunch and returned to their duty leaving the tall man alone with his thoughts.

 **Pilot's rec room – Battlestar Galactica**

The room was filled with fumarello smoke and laughter. In the far corner contained a makeshift pyramid x goal that was being used by Becky "Vixon" Zathras, Tony "Falcon" Bastain, Dylan "Ghostrider" Wolfe, and Kara "Destiny" Fan. Nothing resembling what a regulation sized pyramid arena would look like, but all they had in such cramped quarters.

A triad game was taking place in the opposite corner, the players consisting of Kara "Starbuck" Thrace, Tari "Ares" Adama, Sophia "Tomboy" Omega, Karl "Helo" Agathon, and Jon "Peacemaker" Horlach. Smaller tables contained other viper and raptor pilots drinking, smoking and conversing with each other.

Nina "Betty" Nintius sat on the table with a full view of the room, behind her stood Warren "Eagle One" Rucks massaging her neck and shoulders. She was enjoying it immensely. "You realize you're not getting fraked for this, just so you know." Joked Nintius.

"Hey, I'll settle for a 'helping hand' as a fee for services rendered." Replied Rucks.

"I'll give it serious consideration dear, now a little lower to the left, won't you?"

Vixon just completed her final throw and then turned to fellow Dragon Ghostrider. "So, were you the one on the steam switch?" she asked with a wide grin.

"Don't know what you're talking about Vix." Said Wolfe unconvincingly.

Vixon leaned in close; her near see-through white tank had been drawing welcome attention for the last few hours, now she was using it to gain the attention of Ghostrider who happily complied. Vixon's breasts gently brushed against Wolfe's shoulder as she whispered in his ear.

"Come on…everyone knows that Nightstalker had it coming to him; smug, arrogant, and insufferable when it comes to women are the least of his negatives." Becky gently flicked her tongue into his ear and smiled at the intended results manifesting itself lower down in his extremities.

"Care to get out of here, Vix and I'll give you the answers you're looking for?" suggested Ghostrider. Becky smiled and pulled Ghostrider out the door by his waistband. They disappeared down the hall and into a storage locker unofficially reserved for what Destiny coined "frak rooms.'

Starbuck noticed the two skip out of the room and arched her eyebrow. Her first inclination was that no good was going to eventually come from this, both individuals relished stirring the felgercarb, and whenever there was a problem, either or both were usually involved. She tossed back the contents of her shot glass and returned her attention to the game, and her soon-to-be victims.


End file.
